Scars
by Mini Peacelet
Summary: Following from "The Coward's Way" - Bernie's life is a mess, can Serena help her pick up the pieces? Berenaness.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N:_ just a random idea I had; basically, my take on what could have happened following Serena's refusal of a drink with Bernie at the end of "The Cowards Way". First chapter is short and a general scene setter. All will be explained as the story progresses!**

 **Contains mostly Bernie/Serena, with some flashbacks to Bernie/Alex. There will be 2 alternative endings; one Berena, one Balex :)**

 **hope you enjoy!**

 _Scars - Part 1_

The blonde was slumped against the rough bark of a tree, a smouldering cigarette carelessly propped between her thumb and index finger, and a bottle of scotch discarded on the ground, the remainder of the golden liquid leaking onto the grass. Blood crusted the side of her head, a fresh trickle of the sticky, crimson substance continuing to dribble from the cut.

" _Bernie_?"

Serena squinted through the opaque lighting, eyes flickering closed momentarily when she learnt that the casualty was one of her colleagues. Though she had a bitter dispassion for the woman currently and was riled and disappointed with her deceit, she didn't wish her any harm.

An unfamiliar sensation of slight guilt tickled her. It was an unsettling feeling that twisted her stomach into knots. Perhaps if she hadn't so sharply declined the offer of a drink, and allowed her the undeserved opportunity to explain, they wouldn't be in this state now. But, no; she hadn't actually done anything wrong in this.

"Bernie? Can you hear me?" She descended to her knees with poise, fingertips clasping around her wrist to establish a pulse while she visually assessed the situation.

The former army medic's orbs flickered, "Oh, _Serena_ ," Bernie scoffed rather sourly, scrambling to snatch the bottle of whiskey and regain her equilibrium.

"Not so fast. That laceration to your head looks nasty, not to mention your concussion." Stopping her colleagues attempts at escaping was relatively simple, the brunette began examining to raw wound.

"I'm fine-" Her words were slurred and muffled through her violent shuddering, and she hissed and swore at the pressure applied to the injury, more sensitive and sore than she had previously comprehended. She wasn't actually convinced she even recalled it's existence.

"Fine is a very refined word, and something you are currently _not_." Serena stated, her attitude strict and assertive, "We need to get you to hospital. That cut is going to need stitches. You have concussion with an equally high risk of developing hypothermia."

The spring air was still chilly after dusk had fallen, the last traces of natural light chased and swallowed by the impending darkness of the evening. It whirled in a biting motion, wispy gusts of wind enveloping anything within it's path. And raindrops pattered from the velvet skies.

"I am _not_ going to the hospital."

Serena had been correct; the rumour mills. Gossip had spiralled throughout the hospital at a curt pace, and she was the subject. Hospital was the last place she desired to be present, regardless.

Bernie ascended to her feet with a jostle, her clothes saturated from the precipitation just an additional weight to her effort. Her stubborn demeanour was dominant, she exhaled a mist of white smoke from the remains of her cigarette and clumsily grasped the scotch.

"Er, no. I think you have had quite enough of that." The brunette seized the bottle of liqueur, followed by the cigarette which tumbled to the ground and was stamped out, "And that. Fine, if you don't want to come to the hospital, you will come home with me."

"You have good taste." Serena murmured momentarily, peering at the label on the whiskey. It was exquisite and delightful, expensive and lavish.

Grudgingly, her stubbornness had subsided considerably and she allowed herself to be guided towards the car. She was cold. The pounding sensation in her head becoming more noticeable and equally discomfortable. "Just take me back to my hotel. Please."

"No. You are coming home with me. Concussion is a serious thing, Bernie. You know the rules and procedures. You simply cannot be alone." The car engine roared to life, and she stamped on the accelerator once again.

" _Rules_." It was a muted mutter. Bitter. And she allowed her head to leisurely lean against the window, her exhaustion finally starting to catch up with her.

Rules were exactly what landed her in trouble in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N:_ thank you to anyone who read, and those who left a review. Here is the next instalment!**

* * *

 _Scars - Part 2_

"A hot bath and dry clothes. Help yourself to anything else." Serena added a generous slosh of bubbles to the water and twisted the faucets.

Clean, bright blue scrubs along with a trademark, grey NHS hoodie accompanied a fresh, fluffy towel on the side with a new toothbrush.

"This should warm you up." The older woman continued, her chosen priority to raise Bernie's temperature and reduce the risk of hypothermia, "Are you sure you're not dizzy? Or nauseous?"

With violent shudders, the former army medic meekly shook her head, "Just a barbarously pounding headache."

"As expected," A candid statement, "Just to be sure. What is the day and date? Location? Who invented the telephone?"

Bernie exhaled a sigh, enveloping her arms tighter around her saturated clothing, "Tuesday the 18th of February 2016. Holby. Albert Einstein." Her voice was dry and she swallowed thickly.

She arched her eyebrow sharply, lips parting momentarily.

"I'm joking. Alexander Bell."

"Right, of course." Serena nodded sincerely, a slight curve twitching her lips, "Well, I'll leave you to it. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready. Oh, and please don't lock the door. I do not desire the hassle of needing it re-hinged following the actions of an emergency."

"The water's _freezing_!" The blonde had entered the en suite, dipping her fingertips into the swirl of water briefly before sharply retracting.

"No, it's not. You're just freezing. Trust me, it will warm you up gradually." And the general surgeon's voice faded as she waltzed out of the bedroom and breezed into the hall.

~\~\~

"Feeling warmer? Here's a hot chocolate." The mug grated along the polished counter, a concerned yet disappointed expression stitched to her features and her fingers curled around her own steamy beverage.

"Thank you." She settled on the stool opposite the brunette at the breakfast bar, hands tentatively enveloping around the mug, drawing it in closer towards her. "Serena, why are you doing this?"

The brunette pursed her lips and paused momentarily, "What do you mean?"

"You know _exactly_ what I mean." Curt and pointed, the fuzzy sensation that clouded her head had faded slightly. She felt more Bernie, again. "I don't deserve this, from anyone, let a lone you. I have no one to blame aside myself and my stupid judgement. I'm a train wreck of a screw up, with a track of errors."

"You were adamant that you did not want to go to the ED. I respect that." Serena's shoulders twitched, matter-of-factly, "Actually, Bernie, thinking back, I was probably too cursory in the raw of the moment. I shouldn't have been so hasty to decline your offer...maybe then, this state of affairs wouldn't have occured."

"No, no. I think you had _every_ right." The former army medic disagreed hotly, "Don't allow the guilt to embrace. This is entirely my fault. I accept the repercussions - though actually dealing with them is a _whole_ different matter..." She trailed off with a murmur.

"Well, _yes_. I cannot deny that I am not disheartened and disappointed with your deceit. However, you are a fine trauma surgeon and we have to work together." It was a candid comment as she sipped at her hot cocoa, "So, let's not make this awkward. I still care about your welfare and health, it would be irresponsible of me to leave you in that state, with concussion."

"Mm, I suppose so." Damp blonde locks, tangled and curly, tumbled forwards as Bernie dipped her head, fingertips clumsily caressing the pounding sensation of her head. She winced, a tiny dribble of blood still steadily streaming from the cut.

"Are you in pain?" Serena comprehended shortly after that he question was pointless and rhetorical, "The laceration is still bleeding, I thought it would have stopped by now." Shifting to her equilibrium, she reviewed the wound, "Looks like it could do with stitches. However, we shall have to improvise. I have a suture kit somewhere."

The general surgeon returned moments later, equipped with the medical satchel she kept at home. "I won't lie, this is going to sting, as you already know..." Informative as she snapped disposable gloves about her wrists and prepared to disinfect the area.

"Now, I am quite out of practice at this. It's been a while. Though, we shall try to balance Fletch's." Studiously, she proceeded to close the laceration with neat precision.

"That should be easy for a woman of your skill. I have seen his suturing." Her directness was rewarded with a chuckle from the brunette, and she flinched again. "The whiskey is certainly wearing off now." No longer numb, it was tender and sore.

"I'll get you some paracetamol afterwards...how did you manage to obtain such a deep graze? I didn't comprehend parks to be such dangerous places for sensible grown ups." Serena narrowed her gaze, curious of the events leading up prior to her arrival.

"They aren't..unless you are _foolishly_ intoxicated." A beat. "I tripped over, and had an invasive encountering with a couple of trees. Nothing major."

"You've had quite an evening - well day - it seems."

"Something _like_ that." The blonde muttered and averted her eyes, the symmetrical pattern of tiles aligning the floor suddenly holding a bizarre interest.

Serena disposed the gloves and efficiently tidied away the medical supplies subsequently to being satisfied with the finished suture result. Once again, she grasped her hot cocoa sprinkled with cinnamon and resumed her seat. "Bernie, what were you even thinking? Hanssen would just _adore_ a surgeon in your predicted state tomorrow, performing in his hospital." Sarcasm, just great sarcasm edging her words.

"I clearly wasn't." Bernie scoffed bluntly and exhaled a deep sigh, "Perhaps I'm not adapting to civilian life quite as well as hoped."

She arced her eyebrow sharply, "And this behaviour _is_ tolerated in the military?"

"No. Not at all." A simple shake of her head, followed by a meek murmur, "But a cold shower does wonders."


	3. Chapter 3

_Scars - Part 3_

"So, when did you join the military?"

Facts. Candid facts. This was something the army medic could recite without dilemma. "I was twenty-two. Straight from graduating medical school. A trauma surgeon was always my ambition, and I undertook my surgery training and expertise with the army."

Serena nodded, her gaze drifting idly back to the television briefly, "Why not stay at medical school to specialise and further your education?"

"The army is in my _blood_." Subconsciously, the blonde raked her fingers through her tousled locks, fiddling with stray curls, "I'm from a military family. It was always my destiny...additionally, the costs are beyond incredibly steep and money was tight. The forces offered sponsorships and scholarships. It was the most fixed solution."

"And in return, _you_ give a substantial chunk of your life dedicated public services, and in your case, to the war zone." She mused the conclusion, "I've seen how it works. Though, surely, it would have made greater sense to complete the entirety of your medical training with the forces?"

"Yes, you are probably correct." A small coy smile curled her lips, now more shameful and embarrassed behind the justification with her wise years, "However, I was quite the example of a reckless, carefree teen. It was for the best to retain me from trouble. The military aren't exactly forgiving and tolerating of that behaviour."

Serena smirked wryly. It was just fitting. "A _wild_ child. Mind you, I still can't imagine anybody controlling Ms Wolfe successfully. You are quite the free spirit."

"Something _like_ that."

"How come the army, then? Why not the navy, or air force, for instance?" Her curiosity was piqued. Bernie was a fascinating dark horse, with no doubt many tales linked to her chosen lifestyle.

Their worlds were so close yet so far apart.

Bernie twitched her shoulders in the approximation of a shrug, "I go wherever the forces sent me. Understandably, there is a much larger demand for trauma surgeons at combat zones as opposed to the sky or ocean."

Nothing came without a risk, the hazards came with the territory; signed up together. However, soldiers had the initial higher peril factor. They lived at the exposure of bullets and explosions. That was life.

"Of course. Logical." The brunette concluded with a nod. "So, where did the army take you? Was it as rewarding as initially envisioned?"

"Iraq and Afghanistan. That is where I've completed tours of duty. Most recently the latter." Bernie informed confidently, "Yes, I can't say it hasn't been ruthlessly tough. But I certainly don't regret my career choice. Trauma has always been my dominant appeal, and as an army medic I have been able to put my knowledge to good use and practice."

She paused, stifling a long yawn. The pulsating sensation was resuming in her head with a harsh beat, making focusing more difficult. It had been a long day. "Traumas over here often aren't as complex and severe, nonetheless they are still important. I just feel my skills are best utilised at war."

Serena processed the information, a slow nod with piercing eyes, "How discourteous of me! And they call me a doctor." She mused, "You must be exhausted, and here I am asking you to ramble on about your army experiences. Sleep, _yes_. I'll show you to my room, right now." With her equilibrium regained, she shifted towards the door and paused.

" _Your_ room?" The trauma surgeon's orbs narrowed slightly, shuffling to pull herself from the couch.

"Yes. That is the only free bedroom in the property. Jason has the spare room now, and the third is simply a box room piled with various junk." A swift nod, "You are in no fit state to sleep on the sofa, and I certainly am not-"

Apprehensive, Bernie quickly spoke, "I'm sure I'll be fine on the sofa-" Over her years, she had slept in far worse appealing places that weren't ideal. A sofa was considered a luxury compared to some of the locations.

The older female shook her head fervently, "Nonsense. You have concussion. Plus I will need to monitor that throughout the night as a precaution, and you needn't think that I will be traipsing through the house every hour or so to do so."

" _Right_ -" Bernie exhaled a nervous chuckle.

"It'll be fine, as long as you don't steal all the covers. I hated it when Edward did that."

 _Comforting_.


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N:_ thanks for reading and reviewing! This chapter explains where the title for this fic stems from, and I also thought I may explore some more of Bernie's past, in this and upcoming chapters, since we don't have _that_ much background knowledge! **

* * *

_Scars - Part 4_

"Bernie?" Her feathery muffled voice reverberated the tranquility of the dusk flooded bedroom.

It was still dark. The last few hours of velvety opacity sculpted the landscape, patent traces of swallowing shadows. Flickering street lamps had faded hours ago. It was refreshingly peaceful during nightfall at the more rural edges of Holby.

"Oh, you're awake."

The blonde had shuffled, rolling onto her side to face the window, her back to Serena. Though, she didn't murmur a single word. Despite the routine of the night now very familiar; Serena would wake her every ninety minutes, checking that her concussion hadn't taken a more serious turn. Irritatingly basic questions and fuss.

Silence persisted. Bernie's breathing was heavy and jagged, the fellow surgeon diligently studying into the obscurity through her somnolent eyes.

"Bernie, are you okay?"

 _Okay_? Okay covered a wide spectrum. She was far from fine. Quite the contrary, in fact. And she knew it. Her life had dispelled briskly in front of her very eyes; albeit, at a consequence of her own actions and fatal judgements. But that didn't make the crumbled shards any simpler.

Filled with lament, a trail of decay and scars marooning her wake.

"Marcus is done being amicable." It was a thin murmur, breath stifled and accumulating in the back of a throat, "This is _it_. This is how it ends."

"I'm sure that isn't true-"

Bernie paused momentarily before continuing when silence greeted, low and muffled, "He gets everything and I'm left with _nothing_. I learnt that everything is tied up one way or another in the initial papers, but I at least thought we could talk about it. Compromise, perhaps."

Serena exhaled a faint sigh. The situation was difficult and sensitive, though she couldn't entirely sympathise, "Do not take offence, but you did succumb yourself to all of this when you became infatuated with another. I mean no harm, but I've been in Marcus's shoes so I cannot empathise greatly. He is within _every_ right."

"I know." The former army medic mumbled sadly, "It wasn't like that, though."

"Do you not regret what you have done? A quick fling that has caused such disintegration?"

" _Her_? No. What we have - _had_ \- was much more magnificent than some shameful fling. I love her, Serena." Her heart ached for the anaesthetist, "Sometimes, you just can't help who you fall for. She's perfect."

"I do regret the way in which I went about things, however. I _am_ ashamed of all the hurt I have generated through my deceit. That was never my intention." Stringing a sentence together was unfamiliarly tricky for Bernie. She loathed explaining such a personal topic, "It's like _scars_. I've just left a chase of scars. I am sorry for my dishonesty; for the impair it has done to you and Marcus, to begin with. I feel guilt for the hurt I have inflicted on her...but like scars, I can only hope they will heal and fade with time. I'm _trying_ to fix this."

"You're attempts are not in vain, Bernie. And they do say time is the only healer." Serena cringed. It was an awful cliche. "Look..I am prepared to put what happened behind us, providing you only indulge me with the truth in the future. In all honesty, I think you require a friend."

"Friends are something I'm rather short of at the moment."

Serena's reply came dryly, "Yes, well, that _does_ attend to happen when one isn't reciprocated with honesty."

The blonde rolled onto her back, twisting her head towards the other woman and deciphering the vague silhouette through the darkness, honey curls splayed messily across the white pillow. "Thank you, Serena." Genuine and ardent, soft and melodious.

"Well, I cannot say I blame you for choosing her. Men are quite some jerks when it comes to relationships."

"I'd _drink_ to that...though, not right now. My head can't take another drop of scotch right now." A petite smile creased Bernie's features momentarily and the brunette rewarded the comment with a twitch of a chuckle.

Bernie's dry sense of humour hadn't suffered with the concussion and was still very much complete.

"Laughing hurts my head." The movements were opaque as the trauma surgeon shifted a hand to the dull pounding sensation of her head, something she appreciated wasn't going to clear promptly.

"Sorry-"

The silence was basked once more, only interrupted when Bernie exhaled a deep sigh in preparation of her next sentence. "I thought that after twenty-five years of marriage. A twenty-eight year relationship. I've known him for thirty years...I thought after that length of time you would know someone, inside out..."

She twiddled a loose thread from the cotton sheets between her fingers, "Unfortunately, true colours are not always revealed until things begin to crash and burn. During that time, you were missing for great stints with the army, correct? Have you ever asked yourself if he knew everything about _you_?"

"Point taken." Sharp and blunt, she comprehended that her relationship with Alex definitely had not been apprehended. "We have spent a lot of time apart over those years."

"Exactly." Serena stated matter-of-factly, "So you and Marcus met when..? Med school?"

A slight nod, "Pretty much. Yes." Bernie was somewhat thankful that the room was dark, concealing the embarrassed rosy glow to her cheeks, "I guess you could have called us _high school sweethearts_."

"Oh, how very _cute_." A breezy smirk of indulgence laced the general surgeon's lips, evident in her manner.

Bernie's lips were twisted with a wry smile, head rotating briskly as she shot an invisible glare towards her friend, "You did not just call Major Wolfe cute..."

"Isn't it Ms Wolfe, now?" The older female simply laughed at the ominous growl she received in response, flopping back down onto the foamy mattress, "Goodnight, Bernie."


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N:_ again, thanks for reading and to those people who left a review - I love reading them! Hope you like the next instalment!**

* * *

 _Scars - Part 5_

The former army medic hastily jerked into a bolt upright position, palms pressured flat into the foamy mattress for stability. Dizziness flooded her optics, the rapid motion causing her head to whirl painfully, her surroundings lost in a haze of disorientation.

"Serena! Wake up, we are going to be late for work!"

Blinking repeatedly cleared the blurry edge to her vision, and she squinted at the clock on the bedside table for a more accurate reading, "No; we _are_ late for work."

"Bernie, relax-" Slurred with the lulling sensation of slumber, Serena's eyes flickered open with a riled grunt. The strong rays of glorious early morning sunshine twirled through the crack in the curtains, adding bright warmth to anything within the path of beams.

Mentally, she concluded that she was far too old for nights of broken sleep. "I've already spoken with Hanssen. We both have the day off after I explained the circumstances. You're hardly in a capable state to perform in a satisfactory manner in theatre, are you?"

Bernie descended back into the mattress, her body sinking into the springs heavily, "So, now Hanssen knows all about my personal situation? _Great_."

"No." She contradicted swiftly, "I told him you were involved in a minor accident, and that you weren't in a fit condition to be left alone with the nature of your injury, though not serious enough not to be hospitalised. You know how stretched NHS resources are; so, he agreed that you were best in my accomplished hands. He doesn't know details, Ms Wolfe, and wishes you a speedy recovery _actually_."

"Oh." A pause followed the murmur - the blonde focused on the bleak ceiling, "Sorry."

"Well, I'm certain you would rather that then to just allow the gossip to continue to spiral throughout the departments. That your absent was due to cowardliness to face the chatter you are the subject of." Serena cast a glance to her company's direction, "Now you're awake, would you like anything?"

"Just a glass of water, please. But don't worry, I'll get it myself." Bernie raked a hand through her tousled locks, a heavy sigh emitting from her dry lips, "I have caused you _more_ than enough interruption, I don't want to further my burden."

"Your presence is not a problem, but very well. The glasses are in the cupboard to the right of the kettle."

The brunette mutedly observed as she tentatively planted her feet onto the carpet and nonchalantly regained her equilibrium, straightened the now crinkled scrubs she had slept in and padded out of the bedroom.

Serena followed into the kitchen a short time later and cleared her throat, securing her silk robe with a tight knot around her slender frame, "What are you doing?"

Twisting her head round, she paused from spooning the dark granules of coffee into a mug, "I thought I'd make coffee. It's the least I could do."

She nodded, lips pursed, "You can't have caffeine because of your concussion." The words were spoken matter-of-factly, sincere and dull.

"Serena, really, I feel absolutely fine-" Bernie sighed sharply, popping the lid back onto the tin containing the coffee, the teaspoon clattering against the counter carelessly.

Jerking her shoulders into a shrug, the older female seized the orange juice from the fridge door, assertiveness edging her demeanour that was currently in full doctor mode, "Still, we shall continue to take necessary precaution. The effects are not always perceptible immediately. In fact, they can follow quite some time later, as you know."

"Of course." With the tumbler of water, she reluctantly muttered and allowed her stubbornness to subside. The last thing that was needed was another petty argument, and she perched at the breakfast bar without another word.

It wasn't long before Serena's nephew entered the kitchen, very much awake and in an incredibly sociable mood. "Good morning Auntie Serena, and Auntie Serena's friend Bernie. What time do you like to eat?" The question was directed at the blonde as he loudly marched across to the counter.

Bernie subconsciously fiddled with her fringe, brushing the query away dismissively, "Er, I'm not overly bothered. It varies, usually depending on my shifts."

"Well, I _need_ to know." He was curt, and the level of sound was simply reminding the trauma surgeon of her pounding headache she was trying to overlook, "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. What do you like to eat? I like eggs. Or pancakes. But I can only have them when Auntie Serena is here to cook them because-"

"Yes, that's _quite_ enough, thank you, Jason." Serena shot an ominous glare towards her nephew, scowling at the recent memory, "We do not need to reminisce the outcomes of your attempts with the hob. How about I make us all some pancakes with fresh fruit. Is that alright, Bernie?"

"Pancakes is fine. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Her hand waved away the request, accumulating the required ingredients and utensils. "No, no. I have everything under control. Anyway, you need to take it easy with your concussion."

"I don't _have_ concussion." Bernie grumbled exasperatedly and braced herself for the conversation she was about to indulge in, initiated by Jason, revolving around television documentaries and magazines. Small talk was a passionate loath at the best of times.

The completion of food was a welcoming distraction, and the chat simmered down to an abrupt silence as they ate.

A brisk clank of a sterling silver fork and spoon colliding with the plate caused a start, and the blonde was up on her feet and promptly dashing out of the kitchen and in the direction of a bathroom when an unpredicted wave of nausea submerged her body.

"Well, I didn't consider my cooking to be _that_ bad." Serena murmured beneath her breath, excusing herself from the table and following her colleague with a glass of water.

Bernie was slumped against the wall now the urge to wretch had thankfully passed, her head thrown back in despair and eyes fluttered closed. Her hand clutched her forehead and she exhaled a truly dismal groan.

She folded her arms across her chest, eyebrow arced with concern, and the water deposited on the side, "Still believe you _don't_ have concussion? What happened to our agreement of honesty?"

"Honestly?" Her orbs hesitantly opened, forced to momentarily focus on the other woman, "My life is a mess and I feel like shit."

"Well, you _do_ look like shit."

With a petulant scowl, the blonde scoffed sardonically, "Thanks, Serena."

Serena massaged the back of her neck absentmindedly, her compassion for her friend's self inflicted sickness returning marginally with a sympathetic sigh. She could hardly decline that she hadn't made absurd choices when things in life got real bad. "Why don't you go back to bed for a while? See if some more rest helps. Doctors orders. I've got some paperwork to complete, anyway."

Bernie slowly hauled herself back to her feet, propping herself against the sink for steadiness, her fingertips clasping around a tube of toothpaste as she admitted defeat with a limp murmur, "You're right. I'll just clean my teeth first."

"And for the record, Bernie. You are not a burden. I just care for your wellbeing." Thick and low with sincerity, she pirouetted on her toes and departed, her attention drawn back to the kitchen where a strident clatter had reverberated.


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N:_ again, thanks for reading! This story is turning out to be much longer than I first intended and I'm not sure it's actually going to go in the direction I initially had planned - these episodes are just making me ship berena more and more! For now, here is the next part!**

* * *

 _Scars - Part 6_

"You're awake again." A surprised smile danced lightly over Serena's glossed lips, initially peering thoughtfully around the edge of the door before leisurely entering. Delicate fingertips clasped a notelet of paper, tracing the cursive scribbles of ink.

"And feeling _much_ better." Bernie's features curled a smile, her laptop balanced on her knees with her back propped against the lavish headboard of the bed.

The brunette nodded, padding towards the untidy bed. Though, it was no startle to perceive the sheets still crumpled and messy. She had quickly learnt that good housekeeping was not Ms Wolfe's finest talent. "What are you doing?"

Her disheveled hair had been scraped back into a tiny ponytail of tangled curls, her fringe enduring poking at untamed angles, "I thought I'd do something constructive with my time. Flat hunting. I can't stay in a hotel forever. Well, realistically, not for _very_ much longer at all."

"Very wise. I appreciate your situation isn't ideal, but we have to make the best out of a bad thing." She paused momentarily, "I would offer you a roof over your head here, but unfortunately it isn't greatly practical in the long run. But you _will_ be staying while your concussion requires monitoring. No objections."

"I wasn't hinting." Bernie hurriedly stated with clarity, "I am more than thankful for everything you have done for me, Serena. I didn't deserve such wonderful treatment."

"Oh, that's all in the past. Best place to leave it." Waving her hand, Serena dismissed their history sketchily.

"Is everything okay?" She tilted her head to the side with concern, studying the older female intently as she noted creases of perturbation straining her features, some what lost in the midst of other thoughts evidently.

The general surgeon blew out a breath, acute and deep. She was distracted, her attention pivoted. "Yes, well _no_. My car appears to have mysteriously disappeared-"

"Stolen?!"

Serena twitched her shoulders in the approximation a shrug, succumbed with baffled shock and confusion, "I don't know. However, it seems that way. _Yes_."

The blonde's thoughts twisted to what could be considered a logical possibility that definitely needed confirming whatever the outcome, "Where's Jason?"

Verification followed promptly with certainty, "In the lounge. Being _very_ cranky and irritable because our TV hard drive isn't working. And he is _not_ taking it well." Her nephew had been unwisely testing her patience relentlessly for the previous couple of hours.

"Ah." She should have guessed, a stray curl ebbing at her jaw when she dipped her head into a nod, but her own past experiences haunted rawly.

"I just thought I'd check. I've had experience with young people simply helping themselves to car keys and taking the car for an unauthorised spin. My daughter is the prime example. But we won't go into the detail that she was only fifteen at the time - that is another story." Her head shook with disappointment at the recall, refocusing on the current puzzle.

"Thanks for the warning. I think." A fleeting smile cracked, accompanied by a tense chuckle, "Let's not allow Jason to be informed of that, he already keeps trying to persuade me to give him driving lessons...I was just going to leave you this note to explain my absence for when you woke. I'm going to the police station to file a statement."

"Right, of course. Well, if there's anything I can do-"

"You just concentrate on your concussion." Serena instructed coolly, her tongue running across her lips, "Hanssen also phoned again, something about an inside source from the hospital has induced a major data leak." And suddenly the brunette's dark orbs amplified significantly, pure horror swamping her features as she swallowed thickly.

Bernie perceived as Serena's expression altered briskly, narrowing her own opaque eyes in scrutiny with an insight realisation, "Serena, _please_ tell me your laptop wasn't in your car..." Sincere and dismayed. It was rhetorical; the look confirmed all.

With a frustrated grumble, she rubbed her head firmly and cursed her stupidity with a stifled cry, "Yes. _Yes_ , it was. Along with a series of patient files! I know, I know, but I ran out of hours in the day and was going to complete them in the evening. But I got distracted. This is all _my_ fault isn't it?!"

"Unfortunately, the likelihood is there is no one else to blame." She gave a small, condoling nod. "Go and do whatever you need to do."

The general consultant's breath hitched in her throat, lips pursed. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine." Bernie obliged a reassuring smile, already shifting to sit up properly and closing the screen of her laptop, "In fact, I think I may go keep Jason company."

Her scoff was slightly bitter, "Oh good luck with that, unless you happen to be an expert in TV hard drives!"

"Not my area..." The blonde solemnly declined and wrinkled her nose, a hand gesture reinforcing. Her eyes twinkled with notion, something that definitely was more her area of specialty, "But if he wants to learn how to handle a tank, on the other hand."

"Well, he might not!" Serena's laughter was pleasantly rich, glancing back in her steps as she reached the door, "But I sure wouldn't mind ago!"


	7. Chapter 7

_Scars - Part 7_

A grunt escaped her lips as Bernie ungracefully plunged to the floor and landed with an emphatic crunch. She had been napping on the sofa until something had abruptly startled her doze, and she fatefully forget her positioning momentarily.

Blinking repeatedly, her vision finally refocused and another groan was emitted, " _Fuck_." Her hand caressed at the back of her neck, beneath the tangle of wavey golden locks.

Jason stood with his arms crossed, speaking diplomatically and matter of factly. "Auntie Serena says swearing shows a poor range of vocabulary."

"Did she _really_?" Her orbs were dark and she shot an exasperated glare at the male with her teeth clenched, spine arched as she intended to stretch out the crack she was certain she felt during the fall. She couldn't recall that she had ever bee reprimanded for her choice of language. What else was she supposed to say in that situation that classified as polite?

"Yes." He gave a satisfying nod, the word crisp and echoing in Bernie's ears.

Bernie brushed down her scrubs subsequently to regaining her equilibrium, stroking away the fixed crinkles in the clothing, "Jason, what were you doing?"

He smiled kindly and immediately explained the missing details to the army medic, "I was looking at your hair. It's _much_ better than Auntie Serena described."

Both eyebrows arced, stitched together with surprise. "Right," she expressed a short, perplexed laugh, fingertips subconsciously playing with her messy curls.

It all made sense now; that explained why she had felt hot sticky breath suffocating her skin, fluttering her eyes open to perceive him towering above, looking directly at her as he inspected her hair.

"And what else does your Auntie Serena say about me?" Bernie's orbs narrowed curiously, head tilted marginally to one side as she prepared herself for possible responses.

~\~\~

When Serena arrived home, she traced the trauma surgeon in to the conservatory, the blonde curled in an interwoven chair staring intently a tiny photo pressed nourishingly between her fingers. It was quickly established that Bernie was lost in a hazy trail of thoughts, the brunette's clipped footsteps clearly invisible.

She sucked in a brisk breath, announcing her presence with a hoarse cough while peering at the image that captured such intense concentration, "Is that her?" Curious and tender.

Bernie jerked with a start, tilting her head back fleetingly to look up at the older woman. A simple nod was a satisfactory reply, followed by a name and occupation as she swallowed thickly, " _Alex_. Alex Dawson. An anaesthetist."

The general surgeon studied the photograph, mentally noting details. The woman was clad in khaki uniform, wisps of dark chestnut hair ebbing at her very defined jawline having escaped the her neat ponytail. Bright azure eyes that glittered with a sensational charisma, enhanced by a thin coat of jet black mascara, and pearly-white teeth sparkling in an infectious grin. Freckles adorning her unblemished skin.

"Wait...is that _the_ elusive Captain who locomed as an anaesthetist here at Holby?"

"Yes."

Serena wished she had made more of an effort to go out of her way to greet her colleague's fellow comrade with her freshly learnt knowledge. She had perceived the rumours that another army medic had graced their presence in the building, but details had been vague.

A gentle silence lingered in the air. Bernie shuffled to a more upright posture, reluctantly hauling her fixed gaze away from the photograph of her lover, whom she missed dearly. She cleared her throat slightly, "How selfish of me! How did you get on? Did you speak to Hanssen again? Any luck with the car?" A reel of questions.

"Hanssen has formally suspended me impending a full investigation." Serena's manner was morose and equally mortified, and as she witnessed the blonde's lips part imminent of a response, she swiftly added, "Please, no condolences. It's _my_ fault, my error. I have to take responsibility and fully accept the consequences."

Chagrin and disappointment was ripe, creasing her features painfully. She loved her job, and took great pleasure and gratify in AAU and maintaining it's smooth and structured reputation. Now, she was unable to perform indefinitely, until further notice.

"And my car? The police simply fobbed me off with the usual jargon; they'll let me know if they locate my car, but I doubt I'm _ever_ going to see Berenice again." Her sigh was rattled, and she descended hastily into the chair opposite.

"Excuse me?!"

The brunette watched the quizzical expression, eyebrows furrowed together, "Oh, my car is called Berenice. It has been for years." Deadpan and bland, matter-of-factly.

Bernie stifled a familiar smirk, sniggering beneath her breath as she forgot the serious edge to their conversation, "You called your car Berenice?!"

"Don't judge! Henrik Hanssen names plants." Serena folded her arms diplomatically but her lips quirked into a warm smile, joining her friend with an amused giggle.

"So, tell me about Alex."

" _Alex_." The name rolled off the former army medic's tongue melodiously, a flicker of sparkle in her rich orbs and a delicate smile on her lips, "She's feisty. We didn't exactly get off to the best start. Our first meeting was on the battlefield; a casualty, unfortunate enough to become victim to an IED. Severe injuries."

Bernie glanced towards Serena who gave an encouraging nod, "Alex was my replacement anaesthetist, drafted in at short notice after my usual anaesthetist had to depart suddenly. She became attached to my unit. Medically speaking, she was the very best anaesthetist I have ever had the honour to work alongside."

She blew out a breath and shook her head at her recalls, still baffled with genuine surprise how their rocky beginnings had evolved so spectacularly. An incredulity laugh came briefly and she continued, "But her attitude, on the other hand. She was the first and only person to continuously challenge my judgement, ever. Always inputting her own, very valid, opinion without being asked. Initially, she seemed to have little faith and trust in my medical practice. To the extent her controversy was becoming infuriating and belittling."

The brunette wiggled her eyebrows, her expression indulging as she scanned the small photograph of the medic in discussion once again.

"However, I couldn't let her go because she was too good. Over time, it got better. We talked, started to learn more about one another, understanding each other while sharing a hip flask of contraband scotch in our bunk. We agreed that it would be most effective to combine our knowledge, and eventually we started working together. Trust is a major element out there, and finally it began to form. Made procedures and life so much easier. The difference was unbelievable. And gradually we got closer."

It was as simple as that. The pad of Bernie's thumb fondly stroked over the slightly crumpled image, the edges of the glossed paper had curled with age. She could just imagine what the actual feel of her delicate fingertips caressing Alex'a such silky and soft skin felt like in reality. A sensation alive with lust and fluttering heartbeats.

Bernie slowly stood up, shoving the picture back into the pocket of the NHS hoodie, and groaned lowly at the ripple of pain in her back, hands instantly trying to sooth the source of discomfort.

"Are you okay?" A frown of concern washed over her, quickly finding her feet.

"I accidentally rolled off the sofa earlier, probably just put something out. I'll make an appointment with my osteo." She paused and scowled inwardly, "Or I _would_ if I hadn't given him the boot. Turns out I'm actually fussier than I thought about who puts their hands on me."

"I could take a look if you like?" The proposal followed smooth and light, features in a gentle curve.

The army medic pursed her lips promptly, "I wasn't imploring-"

"Nonsense!"

They moved back to the master bedroom. Serena's gentle fingertips applying feathery pressures, attempting to locate the offending muscle and provide some relief. Alleviating some of the tight knots with a firm massage.

Concussion, and now a bad back. Bernie grumbled miserably at the unfortunate events she had unluckily fallen victim of.

"Unfortunately, that is all I can do right now. The muscles are most likely in spasm. I could run you another hot bath if you want? With salts. That may give some comfort."

"Thank you, anyway." The blonde straightened and stretched again, nodding subtly, "I'll try a bath," Soaking in steaming water had aided before, "but I can run it myself."

"Of course." Serena's smile was kind and she shuffled towards the oak drawers, returning with a pile of neatly folded clothes, "I took the liberty of washing the clothes you were wearing yesterday, figured you'd probably like something fresh to change into, and I don't have anymore scrubs here."

"How thoughtful, thanks." Accepting the clothing, her beam was grateful but soon adopted a puzzled expression, "Wait..I'm sure I wore a blue and white striped top yesterday-" the jumper look very much like the one she had sported the day before, except it was pink instead of white.

A rosy blush of pink tinted Serena's cheeks, awkwardly fiddling with her hands at her impending confession, "Er, yes. I should apologise. Washing machine malfunction. Sorry!"

Bernie nodded slowly, staring at the garment and scrunched her nose with displeasure, "Pink and blue? Not _really_ my colour..."

"Oh, I think you would look quite magnificent in _any_ colour, Ms Wolfe."


	8. Chapter 8

_Tiny time jump._

 _Scars - Part 8_

"Serena! Uh, come in. _Please_ , come in." Bernie smoothed her hair awkwardly, the simple movement straining the navy material of her shirt, enhancing her preserved, toned muscles.

The surgeon stepped into the house, dark eyes swivelling curiously as she examined her unfamiliar surroundings and the interior of her friend's new property. Her smile was warm and kind, sketched to her glossed lips.

Initial impressions indicated that the flat was rather small and confined. The hallway they had entered upon, and that connected the rooms of the accommodation was narrow and trifling, also lacking sources of natural light. Though, she couldn't deny it was bright, even if it was an artificial light bulb beaming golden rays.

"Well, this is.. _homely_." Serena spoke carefully with her lips pursed, cogitating her extensive vocabulary for a suitable word to evaluate her thoughts.

"Small. _Cramped_. I know that's what you're thinking." She cleared her throat, arms folded across her chest and her lips coiled into a wry smirk, "You could have said, I wouldn't have been offended."

Bernie suddenly remembered her - very basic - hosting manners, inviting the brunette into the living room, "I've spent so much time living in army barracks that I've accustomed to the limited space. All I needed was a place to crash; eat, sleep and shower and this ticks _all_ the boxes."

"Fair enough." It was quickly evident that the home had been kitted with necessaries, and though the furniture was perhaps minimal, it fitted Bernie's style.

"And most importantly, it is all _mine_. Free from him, pests and his dead mother. Big, fancy houses were always Marcus's thing, not mine." The army medic added coolly, "And barren to all those sensitive _A words_ that I'm trying to forget about. Well, almost." A couple of pictures excluded that criteria.

Serena frowned, brows stitched together perplexedly, " _A words_?"

"Army. Anaesthetist. Afghanistan. _Alex_ _maybe_..." The theme was easily identifiable.

"Surely _M words_ fit that rightness too? Marcus didn't begin with _A_ last time I checked." She pointed out matter-of-factly.

Bernie grinned dryly, "Oh, he exactly fits the requirements of my _A word_ list. _Arsehole_."

A chuckle was stifled, the brunette suppressing a coy smile, "I should have guessed. Anyway, I procured some wine and flowers on my way here. Consider it a house warming gift from me to you."

Sweet and delicate notes of flora tickled her nostrils as she accepted the bunch of fresh flowers and bottle of wine, features decorated with a gratifying and tender beam that sparkled up into her eyes, "Serena, you shouldn't have! I invited you here as a thanks for last week. But thank you. Very thoughtful _and_ generous."

"I could hardly come empty handed." Conventional. Serena dismissed politely, shrugging her coat from her shoulders and laying it across the sofa arm with her scarf, "Your laceration is looking much better, as are you. I think I did a fine job, if I _do_ say so myself."

The blue sutures and raw skin were still a startling contrast to her milky complexion, but it was healing nicely. "This is the beginning of me getting my life sorted. A microscopic step, I still have the whole divorce procedure to endure. But it's a start. Can I get you a glass of shiraz?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

Bernie returned moments later equipped with two crystal glasses sloshing with a dark crimson liquid, and they perched on the couch. A bottle of shiraz had been purposely bought for her guest's arrival.

"I got you this, as a thank you for everything." It wasn't much, but the blonde had learnt that it was the thought that counted. She produced a mini survival kit, a little camouflage print satchel containing first aid basics and a personal touch with a hip flask filled with exquisite shiraz.

So very apt. And so very Bernie Wolfe.

With a rich laugh, Serena thanked her friend and studied the novel gift with a smirk whilst sipping at her wine, lipstick staining the polished glass.

"How are things with the data leak investigation? And, of equal importance, your car?" Small, idle talk. It was only polite to reciprocate concerning matters, and the army medic's fingertips absentmindedly skimmed the edge of her wine glass.

She groaned inwardly, "I am still under suspension indefinitely impending this damn formal investigation. It is hardly appropriate; their findings are _not_ going to impact or erase this obtuse error, on my part, but whatever satisfies them. I just want to get back to work!"

Structure was something she deeply approved and valued, alongside being beneficial. Her commitment was admirable, and she missed AAU. Daytime television was painfully tedious, certainly not stimulating for a woman of her capabilities. And there was only so much cleaning and housework her brain could tolerate. Theatre was where Serena Campbell belonged.

"I know the feeling." Bernie's lifetime career had always been demanding and she rose to the challenges with ample ardour and pleasure. Being strictly professed to take some time off was unfamiliar, and it left her with the edgy sensation she felt during the recovery from her spinal surgery. Though, she had improvised and kept busy with purposeful distractions.

"As for my car, my ambiguity is maturing scarcer by the hour." A grumpy scoff followed.

"I'm sorry, you don't deserve any of this."

"It is what it is and there is nothing I can do about it. Onwards and upwards is what I always say." Her lips forced into a weak smile, and Serena swallowed a generous mouthful of shiraz. Perhaps drowning her misery.

Silence drifted in like a dense blanket. To the extent they could both hear the vexatious drip of the cold water tap as it beat against the sink in the kitchen, and the steady low hum of each others breathing.

Serena focused on her surroundings, glass pressed between her fingers and drained off it's alcoholic contents. The walls were neutral, clean and fresh, adding brightness to the confined room. Wooden background furniture. The trauma surgeon had evidently tried to tidy up hastily before her arrival but a couple of empty mugs still littered the coffee table, accompanied by a stream of papers that had been bundled into a messy pile. Some frames adorned the oak cabinet, pictures that created a homely sense and individual hint.

Photos of the blonde at various ages and intervals of her life, and of her cherished children growing up. Family and solo shots. _Memories_. But one picture was particularly intriguing, hooking and sousing Serena's attention.

It was black and white, edged with print and as she squinted, she identified that it was a trimming of a newspaper article. The crinkles pressed out. A medic, presumably a younger Bernie, worked efficiently alongside a brunette who she guessed was Alex, treating an injured comrade.

Bernie cleared her throat and swallowed thickly, following her colleague's gaze. "That was 2010. Afghanistan. The first day Captain Dawson and I met. There had been a terrible explosion from an IED. Horrific and devastating. Many of our men were caught in the blast. I was treating a well respected Lieutenant."

"I remember." A slow nod, lips pursed, "It was broadcast on the news over here, covered the newspapers. In fact, I believe on of the soldiers from that day is now a paramedic stationed at Holby. His recovery was remarkable."

"I, er..." She rubbed at the back of her neck, fingers interlacing in the roots of her soft curls, tentatively standing and pacing to collect the source of interest, "A family member kept the clipping and gave it to me. I couldn't bring myself to throw it out...it's one of the only photos I have of Alex." Her voice drifted to a feeble murmur.

"You still love her don't you?" Rhetorical. Serena watched mutedly, the sadness that etched her friend's features, succumbing her heart and glistened her orbs. A whirl of regret and inflicted dark sorrow. "Tell me about your first meetings with Alex."

"Okay." Bernie nodded, inhaling sharply, "We didn't really talk much until later that day in our bunk. In fact, all prior communication was arguing...I'll get us some more shiraz before I begin."


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N:_ slight change to dates mentioned in the previous chapter. (Thanks jlynnesca) I realised that they didn't exactly add up. This is a flashback chapter and purely Bernie/Alex; Serena will be back in the next update! I've had quite a few ideas for my own backstories to these two and I've just chosen one to explore for now. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

 _Scars - Part 9_

 _Alex stepped tentatively in the shared bunk, mutedly unpacking her personal attire and possessions into the cupboard provided next to her bed. Her hair was damp, unruly ebbing at her jawline and flicking out at the very tips from where she had just showered away the sandy dirt and sweat of the sweltering desert._

 _It was only now that her beautifully toned anatomy was revealed; the additional layers of bulky uniform and protection had concealed her frame._

 _The anaesthetist aimed to evade another conversation, a tense ambience loitering thickly over the pair subsequent to their fiery altercation regarding events out in the combat zone as they battled to save a well respected lieutenants life. She had noted that Bernie was ironing her uniform to flawless requirements._

 _The Major cleared her throat with a husky cough, comprehending that the air needed to be cleared between them both to make the shared company somewhat more bearable. They had to live and work together for the indefinite future._

 _"So, is this your first tour of duty?"_

 _"Of Afghanistan, yes. I've completed three previous tours of duty in other wars, though." Her manner was candid and formal, still engaged with emptying her camo printed backpack._

 _Bernie gave a satisfied nod, lips pursed momentarily and she dropped the iron back onto the board, "You've dedicated practically all of your adult life to service, for someone so young." She wasn't surprised to learn that the brunette had performed with the military prior, but to what extent was a shock. There was no denying Alex's skills and talents as a medic specialised in anaesthesia. "Family?"_

 _She paused mid motions, hands releasing the garment that she had just removed from her rucksack and it tumbled elegantly to the floor. Swallowing dryly, her fingers interlaced and became an awkward distraction, "No family. There is no one else. Just me."_

 _A frown creased her features, her voice rather hoarse as she folded her clean uniform onto a hanger, "There must be someone. Not even a partner? Most women here are very ambitious but still have that desire of brood." She had worked hard and committed to gain status in her career, however had still allowed herself the opportunity to create a family._

 _"There isn't. Only me. I never met the right person, kids were never on my agenda." Alex jerked her shoulders in the approximation of a shrug, blowing out a sharp breath and dipping her head, "I, er...I grew up in the foster system. In care. Joined the army at 16 and never looked back."_

 _"I'm sorry-"_

 _"Don't be." Cutting and brisk, "I've got used to it, and you find your armour. It made me more resilient and tough. You learn to judge your own instincts. And I'm sorry if you perceive that as insecure or that I lack trust, but that's just the way it is." The captain was direct and honest in her demeanour, a justification for her attitude obliged._

 _"It makes sense." Bernie nodded, dark eyes shimmering with contemplation, "Maybe try not to be so undermining about it in the future, though. I know you have very little knowledge of my capability, but rest assured, I am considered as one of the top trauma surgeons in this country, not that I intend to blow my own trumpet."_

 _Standing at ease, her hands were shoved in the pockets of her camouflage trousers, "Had you even considered the shunt procedure?" The question was laced with curiosity._

 _"Well, no. It's risky and-"_

 _"We know the risks but sometimes we have to take the chance. And it paid off." Alex interrupted again, diplomatic and crisp toned, "He's still alive and it bought us time. You have to agree that it was the most suitable and practical course of action under the circumstances."_

 _With reluctance, Bernie swallowed dryly and concurred, "In this instance, yes it benefited."_

 _"Is that an apology?" The anaesthetist arced her perfectly shaped eyebrow, a teasing hint of a smirk dancing across her lips._

 _The blonde cleared her throat, orbs flickering momentarily and the subject curved, "You are a very fine anaesthetist, Captain. Welcome to my unit."_

 _"Alex; you can call me Alex." A small, tender smile curved Alex's lips, beautiful azure eyes glittering with pure and polished charm. Tiny freckle adorned her unblemished skin, tinted by the blazing sun she was exposed to and the sultry air._

 _"Bernie," She clasped her fingertips around a petite hip flask, extracted from the safe maskings of her labelled cubby. Pacing the short distance to Alex's bunk, she gave a strong handshake and proffered a swig of the sacred scotch._

 _Alex smiled and swallowed a mouthful, the whiskey trailing a pleasing burning sensation as it trickled down her throat, and in return, she snapped open a packet of cigarettes. "Glenfidditch?" It was a gracious surprise to be greeted with the taste of her favourite scotch; good quality yet expensive, bubbling with spices and hints of citrus notes. Bliss in a drink._

 _"It's my favourite." The trauma surgeon carelessly propped the cigarette between her thumb and index finger, striking at the lighter._

 _"Mine too!" Her laugh was richly infectious, and they descended onto the bed, "You have divine taste, Major."_

 _Bernie smiled contently, blowing out a mist of smoke as she exhaled, "Perfect combination. Coffee and a cigarette is a near second, though."_

 _The brunette wrinkled her nose, "I can't drink coffee. One cup is my absolute limit. Makes my hands shake, which isn't ideal when your job requires precision to administer anaesthetic."_

 _"I probably drink way too much coffee." Absentmindedly, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, inhaling another drag from the smouldering cigar._

 _"So, tell me about yourself. You know about me."_


	10. Chapter 10

_Scars - Part 10_

"You went to boarding school?!" A hazy chuckle stifled from Serena's lip, the story she had been intently listening to now interrupted by her freshly dissected remark. She sipped innocently at the scarlet liquid, a glint twinkling in her eyes.

"Is it _really_ that amusing?" Her eyebrow instantly arced as she blinked repeatedly, and she suppressed a slight laugh, raking her fingers through her hair.

"Sorry...I've maybe had a little _too_ much shiraz." Her cheeks and the very tips of her ears blushed a rosy pink, and it wasn't a flush the wine was responsible for this time. Tongue running roughly over her lips, she continued sheepishly and capped her giggle, "It's just..unexpected."

"No, no. It's fine." Bernie shrugged and persisted with an explanation, "My parents were both in the military, and they decided boarding school was the best option my education, and to provide structure. I spent holidays and some weekends with my grandparents in my mother and father's absences, but they lived out in the country and as they grew older it wasn't exactly practical."

"Did you learn latin and play lacrosse?" The question that instantly bubbled was blurted out before the brunette justified herself the opportunity to consider. Eyes shimmering inquisitively and a smirk curling her features at the thought.

Bernie Wolfe was a woman with many underlying dimensions. And she was relishing peeling away and learning more about the stages of her interesting and gripping life.

She scoffed and briskly retorted, "What do you think?!" And now it was her time to dissolve into a wave of laughter.

Serena's features frowned momentarily as she pondered before announcing her honest conclusion, "Mm, I don't think I could imagine you in one of those skirts and with the caged eye protection gear..not to mention the stick with a net attached."

"Quite right," Bernie grunted, "Give me a hockey stick, on the other hand."

"Ah, now you're talking something I _do_ know about!" A youthful grin.

"More shiraz?" Tipping her head to the side, she didn't wait for a reply as she roughly grasped the bottle and sloshed the remainder of wine into their crystal glasses, tiny droplets of the precious drink splashing out and landing on them and the sofa.

"Oh, thank you." Serena glanced at the contents, noting as her friend gulped down another generous mouthful, "Better make this my last glass. I do need to be sober enough to find my way home tonight."

The blonde expressed a wry smirk, "Can't handle your drink, Ms Campbell?"

Lips pursed, Serena wriggled her eyebrows in reminiscence. "Let's just say that I haven't had more than a couple of glasses in one night in... _quite_ a while." She now considered herself past the age where nurturing hangovers from hell was deemed acceptable. Not to mention how too much alcohol - and caffeine - caused her fingers to tremble which was a huge problem for a surgeon.

"That's a shame; I bought two bottles because I know it's your favourite."

The unique flavours of shiraz sliding down her throat were heavenly, and now she obliged to another top up, "Well, in the case, we can't possibly allow it to go to waste. I'm sure another glass or two won't hurt." A beat. "Oh yes! There's something else I have to share with you." Serena rummaged in her handbag, producing an A4 envelope and passed it to the army medic. "Accompany me?"

With curiosity, the blonde skilfully scuffed her index finger along the opening edge and pulled out the contents, then briefly skimmed the documents. "A six night cruise around Europe for two? Serena, you have done more than enough for me. It should be me who's treating you to something like this-"

"Nonsense! I'll let you into a secret." Her lips twitched into a coy smirk, "It was a gift to me, or more of a peace offering from Hanssen."

Bernie's eyebrows shot up, her voice laced with hints of pry and dubiousness. "Why an earth would Hanssen give you a mini cruise?!" She exclaimed, though she hadn't intended to sound so direct and blunt.

"He booked it for himself however is unable to go because it wouldn't be right for the CEO and deputy CEO to be absent at the same time. So he gave it to me, apparently hoping it would perform as some kind of diversion from the investigation. And I'm choosing to invite you along as I believe you could also do with a break from..."

"The divorce." Bernie completed the sentence, a bitterness shivering her manner as she added a humourless cackle, "Surgery acts as a pretty good distraction from it all too."

"Yes. But unlike the forces, the NHS requires you to work in sensible shifts. I know you have been fuelled by adrenaline to complete much more demanding and gruelling hours of trauma surgery, but here 12 hour shifts are maximum. And that leaves a lot of time for personal problem contemplations." Sardonic and sharp.

The older female had observed as the contrasting makeup that had concealed the darkness under Bernie's eyes had began to fade, smudge and rub off. Dark circles of imminent sleep. Perhaps is she drank enough shiraz, she would finally succumb to slumber.

Exhaling a long sigh, she knew her colleague was correct. It was impossible to completely immerse in her work with protocols and rules she had to follow. "You're right."

Orbs narrowed, Serena questioned for her presumptions to be clarified, "Do I take that as a yes you are joining me?"

"I guess so." A reluctant nod followed.

Serena smiled warmly, draining her glass with satisfaction. "Good. Plus I think a change of scenery will do you some good."


	11. Chapter 11

_Scars - Part 11_

Bernie swallowed thickly, gazing up at the cruiser in the near horizon as they queued in the harbour of Southampton, preparing to board. Clusters of enthusiastic holiday goers bustled around the dock, hauling their luggage and chattering idly.

"Bern?" Serena repeated again, firm yet laced with hints of perturb, and nudged the blonde with a sharp jab of her boney elbow.

"Uh..yes?" Eyes diverting briskly, she compelled to focus on her friend and blinked, words spiralling vacantly in the salty air as she tried to sound riveted rather than vague and drifted, "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you have your passport! But forget that, are you okay?"

"Passport right here." The army medic pulled the maroon document from her jacket pocket, "And I'm fine." She curled her lips into a flaccid smile, sucking in a breath. Right now, a whiskey would be marvellous; or five, or six.

With a slight nod, she acknowledged though wasn't entirely convinced. Serena observed, her lips pursed. Bernie's muscles were abnormally tense, strained with an unknown source of pressure. Shoulders uptight and rigid. Perhaps with an edgy tremble. A bland expression of apprehension creasing her features.

Waves coiled and swirled at the dock wall, a melody of soothing toppling and crisp fizzling as the ocean rippled with elegance. It was fresh. The crests of sea water twirls were relaxing and pleasant to Serena, though did not appear to have the similar pacifying effect on the younger woman. The major was not at ease.

"You are not fine, Bernie. What _is_ the matter?" Arms folded, Serena adopted a compassionate assertion, imploring tenderly.

Bernie exhaled a sigh, continuing to stare ahead. A cigarette would be wonderful right now, as well. She dipped her head momentarily, muttering her fading reply, "Maybe there was another reason why I was a medic in combat zones as opposed to the Royal Navy in the forces.."

"Go on..."

"Awaiting my official deployment, there was an unfortunate disaster with a marines regiment. They drafted in any available medics - myself included - to treat the influx of casualties. We got caught in a horrendous storm. The ride was so rough and choppy, and I suffered with awful sea sickness. That incident definitely influenced my final choice to be stationed in a combat zone. It is highly embarrassing when the medic requires a medic. I've never stepped foot on a boat since."

The blonde twisted to look at her fellow surgeon after a fleeting pause, "Showers and swimming pools are fine. Don't you think the open water is such a perilous place? You _are_ at the mercy of nature."

"I guess it is, however, I haven't had an experience like yours." A petite nod, "Flying on the other hand; I am terrified of heights. It probably won't ease your apprehension, but there are no storms forecast and the journey on these ships is very much different. Smooth; you probably won't even realise you are on water - or at least not when you've got a couple of glasses of wine in you! It's not like we're going to sink!" She added a short chuckle, trying to lighten and diffuse the situation.

Bernie puckered her eyebrows into sharp arcs, "The titanic sunk!"

"That is a _minor_ detail." Serena mused, persisting her articulations in a cool and controlled manner, "Look how far technology and machinery had evolved since then, I can assure you every precaution and etiquette has been taken to ensure that doesn't happen. But, if you really are not happy and don't want to do this, we can turn around and go home."

"No, no. You're right. I'm just being silly." Blowing out a deep breath, she straightened her posture and located a flame of internal positivity. "I need to incapacitate this apprehension. We both need a break and this is going to be it. As you said, I'll have forgotten all about my worries after a few free drinks from the bar."

"Your courage has always been admirable." The brunette suppressed a smile, "As for the sea sickness. There are methods to alleviate symptoms. It all begins with the brain receiving conflicting signals; your eyes don't see any movement, but part of your balancing-sense system, like the inner ear, senses movement such as the motion of the waves. The discordance causes mental alarms and the mind responds with shutting down certain activities, including the complex digestion process. Sleeping and focusing on the horizon often help and allow synchronisation."

Bernie returned the smile, "The science and jargon always helps. Let's get on this ship. I think we both deserve some time at that bar after these past weeks."

They located their suite simply, Bernie inserting the key card into the lock. Gasps and amplified eyes reacted, scanning the room intently. A blend of crisp white and deep purple complimented the ocean visible through the full length panels of glass that made up one wall of the suite, opening up onto a private balcony.

The bright walls of white would radiate and dazzle when continental sunshine flooded through the great windows. A queen bed was situated against a feature wall in the middle, linen feathery soft and a cordial waft of the fresh laundry soap tickled the air. Decorative pillows and a textured throw matched the feature wallpaper.

Anchored in one corner was a sleek, glass desk that curved with the room, spacious and elegant; purple chairs added to maintain the theme. And at the foot of the bed was a freestanding bath tub, adorned with mini jets to create a bubbly jacuzzi effect if desired.

Luxury, stylish and classy.

And to finalise the beautiful suite, Henrik had evidently purchased and requested a generous bottle of exquisite champagne, chilling divinely in a bucket of ice on a stand.

"No, no. There _has_ to be a mistake!" Serena frowned momentarily, racking her brains back to a previous conversation, "Mr Hanssen specifically informed me that it was a twin suite, and he was here solely for business."

Bernie snorted, lips twisting into a dry smirk, "did he state what _type_ of business, though?!"

Wrinkling her nose, the brunette pulled a repugnant expression, "Bernie, that is _not_ a pleasant imagery!"

She laughed wryly, pacing towards the table, curious of the leaflets and booklets that neatly concealed the polished glass, "Technically, he wasn't lying. These set of suites are named 'Twinn Suites' - this one is Berry Twinn, apparently. He just didn't specify details."

The army medic continued to talk after a pause, "Relax, Serena. It'll be fine. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before; and I remember, don't steal _all_ the duvet!"

Serena couldn't help but chuckle, flashing a smile at her friend as she flopped down onto the bed, "You know me, I like plans and formalities. Surprises aren't that welcoming."

"I used to like sticking to the rules," Bernie shrugged, "I'm going to go explore the ship, and more importantly find that bar. Are you coming?"

"Aren't you going to unpack first?"

"I prefer to get my bearings first, worry about the boring details later." She explained simply.

"I'll meet you at the bar in a while, a glass of shiraz waiting would be perfect please."


	12. Chapter 12

_Scars - Part 12_

Bernie growled with frustration, delving through the messy contents of her suitcase as she rooted through the jumble of clothes in her savage hunt. Garments were wildly tossed over her shoulders, mounting in a pile behind her on the tiled floor, until the case was entirely empty. Everything was then propelled back in.

"You know, there _is_ a wardrobe and chest of drawers over there. And oddly, they happen to be marvellous at housing clothes." Perched on the bed, the brunette pointed in the right direction at the additional furniture.

Her eyes were glinted with exasperation as she failed to locate what she desired, "But is there actually any room left in them amongst all your attires? I have never seen someone pack so many clothes for six days!"

"You can _never_ have too many outfits." Serena objected sternly, though a wry smirk curled her lips as she rose from the bed. "What were you looking for anyway?"

Blonde curls tumbled over her face, a sheepish blush mantling at her cheeks, "It appears I may have forgot to pack quite a vital item. My bikini. I planned on going for a swim, try to counteract all that wine and everything.."

Serena stifled an amused giggle, "Well, it looks like my overpacking has actually benefited after all. You can borrow one of mine." The drawer opened and she pulled out two sets of swimwear, "Red _or_ leopard print?" Flaunting and teasing.

The army medic blinked, gazing at the costumes and groaned inwardly at the brash colours - she'd secretly been hoping for a plain black bikini. "Uh..leopard print, I suppose. Thanks." Bernie winced and whimpered, gripping at her lower back intensely as she regained her equilibrium.

"Is your back still giving hassle?"

"Something _like_ that." A muted murmur, teeth gritted. Bernie regained composure, trying to sound smooth and rational but her tone wavered with a gruelling twinge. "It's nothing, probably just backlash from shifting a hefty mattress. I'll be fine." She'd splashed out on a memory foam mattress, years of hard and uncomfortable beds finally catching up with her limbs.

"Nonsense. How about I take another look?" Serena paused; it was a statement rather than an offer, "Now I'm no expert, but my massage seemed to eliminate a great deal of your discomfort before, so let's see if it does the trick again. I'm sure I must be able to pry some essential oils from somewhere here. You get comfy, I'll be right back!"

"Serena, really-" It was too late, the brunette had waltzed out of the suite and Bernie's words were greeted with the slam of the door.

"Ah, you opened the champagne!" Serena's beam was warm and friendly, cheerfully accepting the chilled glass of sparkling wine, tiny bubbles fizzing and popping into a light spray from the rim, tingling against the back of her hand. "I got my hands on some oils! Now for your massage, Ms Wolfe."

"I'm sure Hanssen wouldn't want good bubbly to go to waste." She gulped a final sip of the white wine and clattered the glass onto the bedside unit, then twisted so her back faced her company and unbuttoned her shirt. The material slipped from her shoulders, exposing the milky skin of her slender back.

Serena watched as the blonde settled on the bed, laying on her front with her face nuzzled into a feather pillow. "I have to agree. It would be quite a scandal to leave something that is so appetisingly delicious." A last drop of champagne trickled down her throat before she propped the crystal flute on the side and joined her friend on the bed.

Kneeling beside Bernie's hips, she pulled the hair tie from her wrist and restrained the unruly, honey curls into a small ponytail, articulating an advanced warning before unhooking the clip of her bra, not wanting to ruin the garment with spa oils.

Serena poured a combination of oils into her palm, rubbing her hands together to warm the liquids. Lavender, frankincense, jasmine and sandalwood; all essences that aided with relieving and soothing pain.

She tenderly massaged the natural remedies into the army medic's silky skin, rubbing in firm yet gentle motions across her back. Caressing away the knots in muscles. The conversation flowed nicely, chatter idle. Work topics had drifted to the younger woman's time in war zones.

Lists began to whirl through the brunette's mind as she comprehended the vast number of, what she considered to be everyday, indulgences and luxuries that Bernie had lived without whilst serving with the military.

"...but there were definitely a few things that I _really_ did miss greatly." Bernie exhaled a deep sigh of content, her tense muscles lazing beneath the surgeon's experienced fingertips.

"The kids? Marcus?"

The concoction of essential oils swirled in the ambience, tickling nostrils with delight. It was making Bernie marginally drowsy; perhaps the wine contributed too. "I missed the kids, yes. Baths as well. Just being able to sink into bubbles, lay and soak for as long as I desire, and unwind. And takeaway pepperoni pizzas."

Serena's rich chuckle coiled through the suite, "My daughter always says that pizza has to be accompanied with champagne." Her nose curled in insult that how someone could ruin the exquisite flavours of champagne with a takeaway.

"I personally think pizza is best paired with beer."

"By the way, ham and mushroom pizza is _far_ better than pepperoni." A smirk danced across the brunette's lips, manner teasing.

Bernie's eyebrow arched with a mixture of repel and shock, "How can you put mushrooms on a pizza? That spoils good food. In fact, _how_ can you even eat those foreign little fungi anyway?!"

"It is quite divine, I'll have you know."

Propping herself on her elbows, the material or her bra slipped from her shoulders, and she twisted to gaze up at Serena, "Mushrooms are horrible."

"They are not." The brunette argued sternly, inclining forward and extending her arm, fingertips colliding with her fringe. Seconds whizzed past. Heartbeats amplified. Frozen in the moment. And their lips brushed together. Merciful, feathery strokes and caresses.

Bernie's pearly-white teeth nipped coyly at her friend's lower lip, rewarded with a satisfying groan. Their tongues swirled together. Exotic tastes blended with the traces of bitter wine. Gratifying and lustful.

With abrupt haste, Serena separated from the passionate kiss, retreating across the bed. Her cocoa eyes lingered a little too long on the blonde's exposed chest, adding to the fluster that blushed her cheeks a rosy tinge.

Catching her blatantly staring, the major dipped her head in attempt to conceal her own cheeks flushing. Her heart pounded in her chest, erratic and arrhythmic; provoked from the sudden loss of intoxicating pleasure. And that was when she noted the panic flashing in Serena's orbs.


	13. Chapter 13

_Scars - Part 13_

"No, no, Bernie." Serena raked her slender fingers through her short hair, licking her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, "I shouldn't have kissed you back. I'm sorry-"

Bernie blinked repeatedly, initially murmuring beneath her breath, "You certainly weren't acting like that while _you_ were kissing me." It had been alive with lust. Impulses crackling with intensity like electricity when their lips had connected. But the ambience had briskly turned bitter.

A string of expletives followed, and the blonde leapt from the bed, pulling a robe around her partially exposed frame in aim of salvaging what little of her modesty remained. "When did I become so obtuse _and_ naive? I'm such a fool." Stray curls bounced at her jaw as she shook her head and paced.

"Bernie..."

"Don't Serena. Just please _don't_." Her voice was cutting, hand sternly waving in a dismissive manner. The humiliation was ripe, furiously battling away the vibrant flush threatening her cheeks and the teardrops of anger creating a glossy layer over her fiery pupils.

"You had something in your hair!" The brunette folded her arms across her chest, stepping forwards and reaching out again to remove the offending piece of fluff.

Bernie swiped her fellow colleague's hand away madly, running her own fingers through her fringe subconsciously. "And I evidently got the signals wrong. _So wrong_. What was I even thinking? Clearly I wasn't. I'm sorry." Snatching a packet of cigarettes and lighter from her handbag, she stalked out onto the balcony.

The brunette sucked in a sharp breath, exhaling a deep sigh. Silky fingertips caressed her temples in dismay and she pursed her lips. She rummaged through her own bag, locating the crumpled packaging of an old cigarette box, with just two roll ups left. Saved for emergencies. And she classified this as appropriate as any time for a tobacco fix.

The lighter tumbled with a clank against the outside table on the balcony, tossed by the army medic after several vicious strikes, a naked flame igniting the end of her cigarette with a ribbon of curling smoke. Serena liberated the lighter, flicking it with her thumb until the smoke coiled deep within her stomach. Her craving satisfied.

"I don't think you're a fool. Not at all. In fact, you are quite the opposite."

Bernie snorted bitterly, casting a sideway glance towards the general surgeon, "And I thought you didn't smoke - after all of those lectures, who'd have thought it."

"I don't... _often_." She clarified, "We all have our guilty secrets and pleasures."

A cranky grunt was all she simply received in reply. Serena inhaled a final drag from the roll up, stubbing the tiny end into the ash tray firmly. She really wished she had stepped outside equipped with the wine bottle now. "I'm sorry if I lead you on, Bernie. That was never my intention. And I most certainly shouldn't have responded to the kiss; that was _my_ mistake entirely."

"I got it wrong. Too much wine. Forget it." Vague and distant. The blonde fumbled with the box and flipped open the top, propelling out a second cigarette without a glimpse in Serena's direction.

"No. We need to clear the air. An argument left is not an argument resolved." Serena stated matter-of-factly and cleared her throat with a coarse cough, "It's nothing personal. You are a fine, smart and intelligent woman who is a remarkably talented surgeon, and equally quite attractive but-"

"It's fine, Serena." Dryly, she interrupted with a sigh, retiring the conversation with another brief hand gesture, "You don't need to explain yourself to me. It was my error of judgement, I'm in the wrong."

"You're still in love with Alex, and in the middle of a gruelling divorce, Bern. I would be the foolish one to take advantage of that. For me to pledge to any relationship, there has to be 100% commitment from both parties. I've had my heart broken far too many times over the years. I don't put it on the line. And I don't want to just be some rebound fling."

Flicking away the smouldering ash, Bernie diverted her gaze back to Serena and blinked. It always amazed her with Serena's ability to read deep between the lines, mutedly deciphering and working everything out so correctly. Startlingly, she almost knew the army medic's thoughts as good as herself.

She gave a slow, understanding nod and apologised sincerely, "You have to prioritise what's right for you. I get it. And you're right. I'm sorry."

Serena's lips curled into a slight smile, "For the record I think we've both had too much to drink." She added, "But, Bernie, you are a good kisser."

The fiery glint sparked across Bernie's features, the familiar wry smirk captivating her lips faintly as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and her cheeks mantled with a brush if rose. "You too, Ms Campbell."


	14. Chapter 14

**_A/N:_ uploading the rest of this fic in bulk!**

 _Scars - Part 14_

"I have no idea where you find your energy to walk so far! And in this heat! My feet feel like they're about to fall off, and that's before I twisted my ankle!" Serena grunted and exhaled a dramatic sigh as she flopped onto a chair, swiping away the dribbles of sweat from her forehead.

"This is nothing; years out in Afghanistan and Iraq have acclimatised me to the heat and humidity. Rain and the British winter, not so much." Bernie's nose curled at the thought of the depressive and gloomy days that accompanied the coldest season; endless bleak skies, miserable and persistent raindrops, and layers of thick clothing.

Bernie's cheeks were flushed with a healthy glow, radiance beaming from her exposed skin. A dewy finish that was so natural. The soaring temperatures hadn't bothered her, unlike many of the other budding tourists, including Serena.

"I don't know how you do it!" A huffed exclamation as she frantically wafted a leaflet in front of her like a makeshift fan, "I thought I walked quite a lot at work during a day. It must be the heat, yes it _is_ the heat!" The brunette concluded with a pant.

"You have become too habituated to air conditioning, Ms Campbell!" She couldn't deny that the invention of cooling systems wasn't a wonderful thing, but it did generate additional suffering when it was absent. _Another luxury_.

"I beg to differ. I have adapted to the normality of cold and rain that the British climate so generously graces us with!" Sharp and pointed, she countered abruptly and exhaled another grumble and complaint, "I'm too hot!"

Serena gulped down the chilled water. Her skin had flushed a deep red; perhaps representing a sunburnt tomato. Droplets of perspire glazed her skin in a thin layer, beads of sweat tumbling from her forehead. The garments of clothing had practically fused to her body, sticky and clingy; not a flattering look. And the moisture had caused her hair to dampen and flop flat against her head.

"Have you never holidayed to a hot country before?"

"Yes." A simple nod, "However, lounging by the poolside with a healthy glass of shiraz is immensely different to traipsing around cities visiting landmarks and attractions!"

"But isn't that what visiting foreign countries is all about? Seeing the sights and visiting famous spots. Learning and living their magnificent cultures!" The blonde's voice bubbled with a zealous pleasure and delight, her cocoa eyes twinkling with a similar sparkle.

"I prefer to relax personally."

"I didn't hear you complaining about that huge bottle of shiraz that accompanied your lunch. In the heart of Lisbon." Bernie wiggled her eyebrows, a dry smirk of prevail adopting her features as she perched on the chair by the fancy desk.

The cruise ship had docked at the first of many stops throughout the trip. The pair had joined several of other passengers in accepting the opportunity to look around some different cities.

Serena grumbled irritably again, choosing to hastily change the subject, "I'm going for a shower." She tugged at her sticky clothing, hauling herself to her feet and disappeared into the bathroom with a slight limp.

The faint scent of rich coconut wafted through the suite when the general surgeon reemerged. Hovering and dispersing through the air space like a breeze. Serena was refreshed and satisfied. She had cooled down significantly, though her cheeks were still blushed with a rosy pink.

"That is so much better." Serena breathed out a content sigh, hydrating herself with more water. She paused. Eyes swivelling, they lingered on the blonde and her cordial mood twisted.

Her laptop was open on the desk. A lavish measure of scotch in a tumbler next to the keyboard, a vague outline of lip prints in chapstick smudged on the rim. Bernie's elbows were propped on the polished glass surface, head in her hands with her fingertips clawed into her fringe.

"Bernie?"

Serena briefly scanned the computer screen. Establishing it was an email from her lawyer regarding the divorce was all she was able to learn before the army medic snapped the lid shut in an angered haste. She studied the blonde fleetingly, noting how the twinkle of spirit that dazzled her eyes had dulled with a wrenching dismay.

"The divorce. Marcus cranking up the pressure again?"

"No. Well, _yes_. Or rather, it's the kids this time actually. Though I'm sure he's behind it." The blonde sighed deeply, yanking her hand through her tousled curls and gritted her teeth with fury. Watching her friend give an encouraging nod, she continued. "He's got them to write statements supporting his case! As if this isn't difficult enough. He had no right to get them involved. I'm their mother!" Her laugh was bitter and she scoffed.

A sharp wince, "Ouch."

"A chapter and verse on my failings as a wife _and_ mother." Bernie's tone was resentful, and she shook her head and clenched her fists, "I tried my best. I do love them. This is such a mess."

The general surgeon blew out a breath, rubbing her temples momentarily. She still disagreed with Bernie's deceit and what she had done, but she had to sympathise with the children involved. It was impossible to imagine her own feelings if her ex husband had attempted to manipulate her daughter against her. "Of course you do. Why don't you try and talk to them?"

With a shake of her head, she gulped down the whiskey. "No point. They have made it quite clear that they don't want to talk to me again." Her eyes drifted as her voice wavered with emotion, emphasising the hurt silent shredding her heart.

"Give them time to calm down. It'll blow over. You don't want it turning into a stand-off of the lifelong variety, anyway."

"Already there. This feels like the start of something long and painful. Marcus always spoilt them while I was on tour. It paid off for him. This must just be my payback. How bitter." Bernie glanced out towards the rippling ocean, blinking away the coat of gloss that glistened across her wide pupils.

Serena sloshed some more scotch into two doubles, "It'll be okay." The words were cliche but all she could do for uncertain reassurance, "Tomorrow we will do something to try and take your mind off things and get you to relax. I need to rest my ankle also. I was thinking perhaps a spot of yoga?"

Eyebrows puckered and stitched together, the blonde thanked her for the additional whiskey, "Yoga?!"

"Yoga is actually very therapeutic, Bern."


	15. Chapter 15

**_A/N:_ I'm not a doctor, any medical mistakes are my own and I apologise in advance.**

 _Scars - Part 15_

The pen scrawled against the crisp paper, Bernie's gaze fixated on the content of the report. Digesting and double checking, followed by an approving scribble for a signature. It was tedious. She loathed the motivation she had to assemble to sit at her desk and complete the paperwork that accompanied her position. Practical was so much more rewarding than the lacklustre academics. Exhaling a sigh, she daringly glanced at the folders balanced precariously in an abundant mountain; a pile that seemed never ending.

"Fletch, I thought I said _no_ interruptions excluding a red phone emergency. And I haven't heard it ring yet-" Her pitch was dull but tinted with assertion. She didn't even raise her eyes to the door as it clicked open, immersed in concentration.

"Well, it's a good job it isn't Nurse Fletcher then." The voice was rich, a coy grin refining her lips that sparkled up to her polished orbs, and the door flicked shut with a skilled tap of her foot. "Good morning, Ms Wolfe."

A clatter instantly followed as the pen slipped from her fingertips and tumbled against the desk. Bernie tilted her head upwards, beaming infectiously as her mood elevated in seconds, "Serena, you're back!"

"I am indeed. And I am unbelievably thankful that the investigation is over. I couldn't spend another day pottering around at home!" Serena sighed happily, ambling towards the blonde's wood desk carrying her purchases from Pulses on her way to AAU. "Coffee? Black with two sugars. With a sweet treat to accompany."

"We're very happy to have you back!" She opened the brown paper bag, arching her eyebrows with a wry smirk. A vanilla slice. "For breakfast? You are being devilish today, Ms Campbell."

"I couldn't resist." Her lips matched with a glint of a playful beam, inhaling the rich aromas of her own beverage. "I'd thought you'd be out around the ward at this hour."

"It's unusually quiet. Everything is under control."

Serena smiled, manner chipper and noble as she concurred with a nod. "Yes, I can see you've kept AAU running like a well oiled machine in my absence. The paperwork on the other hand.." The perfectly sculpted arcs of her eyebrows wriggled teasingly.

"Guilty." Holding her hands up in surrender, Bernie chuckled sheepishly before promising, "I'll get it done, though."

"I don't doubt it." Heaven melted in her mouth; a combination of the sweet pastry fluxing against her tongue and the bitter yet delicious flavours of strong coffee beans was sensational.

Bernie extracted her phone from her pocket, the vibrating sensation indicating an incoming call. Her lips succumbed to a frown and with a sincere tone, she answered. Features creased with strain, she allowed her phone to tumble back into the security of her pocket subsequently to the short yet sharp conversation, and she slurped at her coffee with a dismal sigh.

"Everything okay?" Serena tentatively questioned, clasping her own fingers around the coffee cup and inhaled the white wisps of steam that tickled her nose with delightful scents.

"It was my lawyer. I always knew Marcus wasn't going to go for mediation. But the money's flying out of our accounts and I've got to move fast apparently. She wants to see me as soon as possible." Draining the remains of her coffee, she skilfully propelled the empty takeaway cup in the direction of the bin, landing with a satisfying clatter.

She couldn't physically wait for the divorce to be complete. The stress was amplifying, as was her dislike for the abhorrent man. How she lived and tolerated him for over twenty-five years she couldn't even remember. "He won't give me a single penny. All his accounts are empty even though he recently inherited £400k from his dead mother-" Her rant persisted, fingertips tangling into her natural waves of her hair.

"Go now, go get it sorted. We'll manage until you get back." The general surgeon offered a consoling smile. Her and Edward had been on rocky terms, but she had rightfully granted him what was his.

"Don't ever decide to marry someone just because you fell pregnant with their child. Forcing yourself to fall in love, for the sake of society _and_ the infant, doesn't end well." Bernie glided back in her chair, hauling herself to her feet to collect her handbag and keys.

"Oh, don't worry. I am well and truly part of the embittered ex wives club myself!"

The blonde shared an understanding yet strained and perturbed smile as she prepared to leave for the unpredicted meeting with her lawyer. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she paced towards the door and halted as she was greeted by a solemn CEO.

"Mr Hanssen."

Serena swiftly swiped the sticky crumbs from her fingertips, swallowing the buttery mouthful of pastry, "Henrik, to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I'm sorry to disturb your morning, ladies." Henrik gave a solemn nod and cleared is throat, "There has been an emergency; well, quite frankly a disaster. A train has derailed just north of Holby. Multiple casualties, exact numbers remain unknown. An experienced doctor and surgeon have been requested to attend the site; required to assess and dictate where individuals are fast tracked to stop a press negative build up in A+E, with the potential to intervene in any crisis."

"I'll go." Bernie didn't need to think twice, she chucked her bag back under her desk.

The brunette objected immediately, "Uh, I'll go. Haven't you got to go to that meeting with your lawyer, Ms Wolfe?"

"Cancel it for me." Retrieving her phone from the pocket of her scrubs, she tossed it across the room towards Serena, teeth gritted as she expressed her next sentence, "You only get one chance to save lives. I'll have plenty of other opportunities to fight my husband."

"The other of you will have to contend with regular press updates, it's hit the headlines." Hanssen informed bluntly, "Decide as quickly as you can, an ambulance will be awaiting the attending medic as transport." He swivelled on his heel and marched out.

"This is my thing, Serena. My bread and butter. It is highly likely their will be trauma emergencies there too. These unfortunate calamities contain the same general context as I have spent my whole life dedicated to; a war zone or urban accident, there are huge risks and you have to act in the moment with calculated decisions and not crack under the pressure." She was already tugging her hair back into a bobble, "Plus I think you're amazing organisation skills will be better utilised here, and you are so much better at public speaking than me."

Bernie had clashed several times already with a blunt and ruthless manner. News reporters were a sensitive and delicate matter, for the sake of the hospitals reputation. Tentative consideration yet with a firm and confident handle. She didn't have the patience for people simply seeking gossip, twisting their candid words into a farfetched front page cover for the reward of a juicy pay cheque.

"You're right." Serena rubbed the back of her neck, apprehensive about the challenging shift ahead that would soon be chaotic and stressful, "I haven't joined emergency services at the scene of a disaster in years. They'll probably appreciate having one of the country's best frontline trauma surgeons on side anyway. Keep me updated."

"I will," With a final nod, the army medic dashed out of the office and towards the changing rooms.

It was late in the afternoon before Bernie finally returned to the hospital. The sun was beginning to set in the dusky skies. Reds, yellows and beautiful oranges blended together into something magnificent.

The blood red of the sky matched the colour of the sticky crimson that had smothered the blonde's green issue-wear boiler suit for any doctor attending an emergency scene, seeping through onto her white t-shirt. She'd slipped the saturated sleeves off, tying them around her waist and marched into AAU with the last patient, pushing the gurney with the paramedics.

And she still looked hot.

Greeted by Serena, Bernie instantly started informing her of the casualty's required medical jargon. "Is the anaesthetist on standby and ready? And the bloods ready to crossmatch?"

"Yes. Theatre one is prepped and ready to go."

The concluding patient had most certainly suffered the most critical life-changing injuries. Bernie had entered the train wreckage, accompanied with other members of emergency rescue, to attend to a trapped male. He had been imprisoned during the derailing, heavy debris falling and trapping his left leg among the rubble.

The experienced trauma surgeon had been rushed through the upturned carriage to try and stabilise the casualty whilst the fire crew tried to fathom a plan to free him. He had evidently been stuck for the entire time. Too long. And Bernie comprehended his chances of survival were slim unless they acted immediately.

A GPS barely scraping 1, a low slow pulse from the insane quantity of blood loss and his pale, grey skin and a quick medical examination informed her that she only really had one option left, especially after the earliest eta from the fireman with a proposal that was guaranteed success. With aid from the paramedics, Bernie had sedated and intubated the male before having to amputate his leg below the knee in dark and dingy conditions after failing to locate a pulse in his foot; it was the only way she had a chance at preventing the blood flow and she was almost positive the crush injury would be too severe to save anyway. Infection was the least of his problems right now.

"Bernie, where are you going?" Serena's eyebrows puckered together with a frown as she perceived the army medic about to enter the corridor that only housed the operating theatres.

"Surgery? He's my patient, it's only right that I clean up and fix the mess I've left him in, due to limited resources and cramped conditions."

"No, I don't think so. That man needs to be in a sterile environment, and I'm sorry Bernie, but you are riddled with bacteria." She gestured to the blood and dirt that had fused to Bernie, streaked across her skin as well as staining her clothes. "There are other surgeons perfectly competent of thoroughly cleaning the opening and sealing the wound. Right now, you need to shower and get a drink and some food. This is the NHS, not Afghanistan."

Authority stamped Serena's tone cuttingly, Bernie understood never to counteract that assertion. She _was_ right. The man needed surgery now and didn't have time to wait for her to shower and then scrub in. Nodding meekly, the blonde glanced towards the patient before walking away.

When the brunette returned to their shared office, she was welcomed with the sight of Bernie hunched over her desk, slaving away at the paperwork. Her honey locks were damp and curled, flicking at the very tips from where she had showered. Now dressed in clean scrubs, Bernie glanced up at the click of the door and cleared her throat, "Er, how is he?"

"Stable." Serena informed with a nod, collecting two tumblers from the side along with a bottle, "The real thanks are owed to _you_. You saved his life, and did a pretty neat job with the amputation. Infection is the biggest concern right now, but only time will tell."

"I've had enough practice." The authenticates of serving as an army medic were grim and laced her words as she furrowed her eyebrows at the memories, "I was only doing my job."

"You did a brilliant job." Amber liquid sloshed into the glasses, a squeaky noise grinding in the background as she slid the tumbler across the wood, "Whisky's your tipple right? Thought you could do with it after today."

"Thanks." Bernie polished off the scotch in one swig, breathing out as it burned down her throat with a quenched sigh.

Serena sipped at her own, the dark notes and strengths trickling to the pit of her stomach in a warming wake, "Didn't expect you to still be here. Thought you'd have rushed off to catch your lawyer?"

A scoff followed, "Marcus can wait; it'll do him good. I have other priorities. Like completing this stack of paperwork I promised I would."

"Well, perhaps I can keep you company? A job shared is a job halved." She wasn't seeking permission; Serena grasped the next file and a pen, the ink already scrawling onto the paper.


	16. Chapter 16

**_A/N:_ I already had part of this idea before we knew Camerom was going to actually be in Holby, then I combined it with the spoilers before the episode aired. Since then I tweaked my own character to be one from the show after watching the ep, hoping to make it a little less confusing (:**

 _Scars - Part 16_

"I'm here! What have we got?!" Bernie's breathing was slightly rasped from her rush to prepare for the incoming trauma bay emergency. She had arrived for her shift a mere four minutes ago and had raced to exchange her civilian attire for scrubs. Ready for action.

Fuelled with adrenaline, her cheeks were mantled a healthy pink, and she secured her disposable apron in place and snapped on the gloves.

"Twenty-one year old female, involved in an RTC. Named the driver by the passengers also involved. Dyspnea at the scene; oxygen mask had very little effect so paramedics intubated at the scene, and sedated due to her extreme distress. We're awaiting her medical notes. Here at the chest x-rays and CT scan results from the ED."

The blonde peered over Serena's shoulder, maintaining the moderate pace to position, and studied the prints displayed. Both women scrutinised for abnormalities, clues for what they would be contending with.

"Looks like flail chest." A pinching motion followed as Bernie zoomed in on the x-ray, enlarging for closer details on the ribs of the left side, and she gave a concluding nod, "The first four true ribs on the left, starting from the top of the sternum, are fractured multiple times."

Serena concurred with a nod, "I agree. Mechanical ventilation was considerably the correct treatment then. We must simply establish whether it is achieving chest cavity stabilisation primarily, then assess any additional injuries."

"Not necessarily." She promptly countered, "Corrective surgery could be a more effective treatment. Repairing the damaged ribs should allow unaided ventilation, and significantly reduce the chances of pneumonia and a pneumothorax. Eliminating serious complications."

"Mechanical ventilation has always been suitable, in my experience. We deal with any secondary medical problems should they occur. Invasive surgery for impending secondaries that may never happen is not a resolution." Serena shook her head firmly, dropping her tablet onto the nurse station as the doors propelled open and the trolley wheeled in their casualty, "Right, this way please."

Bernie walked with the gurney, reading and processing the notes while listening to the latest sats and obs being reeled off impending the transfer. Stethoscope propped in her ears, she hovered ready to begin her initial chest examinations, eyes flickering to the patient's face.

Breath captured in her throat, the ability to swallow lost. Long honey hair that was equally as unruly as her own; thick with a natural wave. She would always recognise those locks. She halted abruptly. Suddenly feeling weak at her knees, legs threatening to buckle as her breathing became raspy.

" _Charlotte_?"

"Ms Wolfe? Whatever's the matter?" The brunette glanced upwards to learn that the trauma surgeon had paused, leaving her to digest the reel of information on transfer and instruct what happened next. She blinked, eyes flashing back to the patient and staff, "Uh..right, yes. I'd like an updated ECG please, and blood for alcohol and drug testing, as requested. I'll be right back." Glancing at the monitors, she briskly stalked out satisfied the girl was moderately stable.

The army medic propped herself against the bleak grey wall, caressing tentatively at the back of her neck while attempting to control herself. Her orbs darted fleetingly at the mention of checking the system for potential evidence so the police could charge, and she blew out a long breath.

"Bernie?"

Bernie tipped her head back against the wall, "That's _my_ daughter." It was a frail whisper and she closed her eyes. "I've wished to see my kids, but not like this...drugs and alcohol, really? She wouldn't..."

In moral support, Serena gracefully extended her arm and rested her hand on Bernie's back, rubbing soothing circles, "Still not talking?"

She shook her head, features creased with a wrenching pain, "They hate me. And I can't say I blame them." A bitter scoff followed.

Wincing at the harshness of her words, the general surgeon parted her lips to speak but her attention was quickly diverted as the monitors and machines started to bleep frantically.

They raced back into the trauma bay. Bernie pushed away her personal thoughts and emotions, firmly reclaimed with her doctor composure and dedication to duty. This was something she was good at, and she grabbed her stethoscope from her neck.

"BPs crashing, as is her pulse!"

The stethoscope skimmed across Charlotte's chest, precisely and efficient. "As feared, a pneumothorax. Her left lung is punctured. We need to get her to theatre now, and try to repair at least some of the ribs to prevent further damage."

"Bernie, you shouldn't even be in here." Serena swiftly completed her own assessment, "Pneumothorax." Agreement with a crisp direction, "Prepare to insert a chest drain."

"No! We - _you_ -" The blonde paused and corrected herself, acknowledging equal authority and protocols, "will have to operate! We have to try and repair at least some of the damaged ribs to prevent them causing further harm to her lungs-"

"With all due respect, it is _my_ call." Her voice was firm yet gentle with compassion, "I say we treat what we have right now. You're a relation, it is against rules and regulations, I'm sorry. Surgery could cause even more complications; it's complex and not without risk."

"And the detached free-moving pieces of rib could do even more injury!" Bernie was fuelled with her fiery manner, bluntly arguing, "What happens if it punctures her other lung?! Surgery is her best chance!"

She raked a hand through her wavy locks and folded her arms, studying her colleague briefly, and it clicked, "You haven't got the experience to perform the operation, have you? That's why you are so reluctant!"

Serena sighed and massaged her temple, "No, I am not as confident as I feel I would like to be with the surgical procedure-"

"Then I'll do it!" Her manner bold, she interrupted, "Let's get her straight to theatre. We've wasted too much time already." Slamming the rail of the bed up, she marched towards the swinging doors and propelled them open.

"Bernie, you can't! This is the NHS, not Afghanistan!"

Bernie countered sharply, "What if this was Eleanor? Wouldn't you want to do whatever you could to help her?! I am more than familiar with this surgery, I'm her best chance!"

"Fine, fine, but I'm scrubbing in with you!"

The surgery had been intense. Though it was very evident that Bernie's talented skills had experienced similar situations during her time as a trauma surgeon specialist. It had been successful. Stepping back, the blonde allowed Serena to finish the stitches neatly.

"The police say Charlotte was driving?"

Bernie titled her gaze up to reach her colleagues and nodded tenderly, "So they say," It was a brief mutter.

"But we have been operating on her left side. Surely if she was the driver, then all the impact would be on the right side rather-" The older woman continued, tying another stitch into place.

Pondering for a moment, she deciphered where the conversation was heading, "We typically see trauma to the left side of the body with passengers." A nod of agreement, and she loosened the crisp hospital gown, checking for the bruises and lacerations as a result from the seatbelt. "The bruising goes from the left shoulder to the right hip."

"Meaning Charlotte was in the passenger side of the vehicle, albeit front or back, I don't know." Serena finished slowly.

Bernie spoke the conclusion, "She can't have been driving then."

"Medical science would say no, and I think that is strong enough evidence."

"I want to speak to the police." Anger hinted the army medic's words, "I want to know who she was in the car with and why it appears they have tried to set her up to tale the blame! Charlotte's innocent."

The brunette nodded, "Go, I'm fine here and have nearly finished. I'll see her to recovery and then catch you up." A beat, "Bernie, you did a marvellous job."


	17. Chapter 17

_Scars - Part 17_

Bernie paced back and forwards the length of the vacant corridor. Clutched in her hands was a coffee from Pulses, ribbons of steam swirling from the lid. She'd departed the bustling heart of AAU for some moments peace and the chance to collect herself.

"There you are," Soft mellow words hummed in the ambience, a light click of chunky heels clipping against the linoleum surface as Serena ambled through the corridor, "Are you okay?"

She nodded. Honey curls slipping from behind her ears, brushing along her jawline with a gentle ebb, "Just needed a few minutes." The coffee scolded her mouth as she swallowed slowly, hoping the injection of caffeine would also provide the courage and confidence she seemed to be lacking in domestic territory.

"Of course," It was understandable; the situation was sensitive, and currently frosty.

"Her brother and a friend were in the car with Charlotte." Bernie spoke again, propped against the window ledge, "No apparent critical injuries; they were much more fortunate than Charlotte. That's all I know."

Serena gave a subtle nod, waving the notes she grasped in her right hand, "Yes, they are being transferred to AAU as we speak. Just for monitoring, nothing severe, and I believe the police are patiently waiting for a doctor to grant them permission to further their enquiries."

"May I?" Gesturing to the medical reports, the blonde accepted them and skimmed through the contents and swallowed thickly as she learnt the name of the third person involved, "Could I go check them over? I'd like to see them, anyway."

She cleared her throat awkwardly, "I shouldn't really allow it. In fact, I was going to suggest that you took the rest of your shift off." Her words were tentatively, cocoa eyes flickering for a reaction.

Bernie scowled slightly, "That won't be necessary. I'm perfectly capable." Sincere and sharp. Medicine gave her a purpose. Exhaling a sigh, she rubbed at the back of her neck, an expression of implore adopting her features, "Please, Serena. The kids...things are still very tricky. There's a lot of hate and negativity. I'd like to take full advantage of this awful situation and try to talk to them. You said yourself that it's nothing serious-"

"Very well." Serena reluctantly agreed, quickly adding, "Any problems and I want to know, though." It was an order, not a polite request.

Nodding her understanding, the army medic's lips twitched into a grateful smile, "I just required some time to compose myself, rehearse what I _might_ say."

"I get it," She returned the compassionate smile, "By the way, Charlotte's blood results are back. Negative to alcohol and drugs. However, a small quantity of drugs were found in the vehicle..the police have requested bloods from Mr Dunn and Mrs .., and a witness reported that the car was seen to be veering significantly before the crash."

Her eyes fluttered shut fleetingly as she frowned in dismay and sighed, "Leave it with me."

 _~\~\~_

"Cameron," A sharp breath sucked in, the blonde tugged the cubicle curtain back, "Oh!" she stopped hastily, blinking repeatedly with a small frown as she perceived her son perched on the edge of the bed and passionately kissing another female.

She wanted to be happy for him; all she desired was for her children to be healthy and happy, with or without her presence. But she couldn't, not under the circumstances. Bernie quickly grasped the reason why Keeley had also been in the car now. Not matter how hard she tried in that moment, she couldn't master the bitterness and resentment as to why, of all the people, Cameron had fallen for a married forty year old with her own kids. And a former registrar she had taken under her wing some years prior.

The pair pulled apart instantly, Cameron hopping off the bed awkwardly and addressed his mother, " _Madre_."

"Keeley." With a slight nod, Bernie acknowledged the other woman, hands tucking into the pockets of her scrubs as her fingers curled into clenches. She had failed to hide her shock, and her manner stated everything unsaid.

Shuffling on the bed, she fiddled with a loose thread of bedding and avoided eye contact, "Mrs Dunn, long time no see."

"It's Ms Wolfe now, actually."

Bernie watched silently, Cameron interlacing hands with his girlfriend, reassuring and lustful eye contacts exchanged. Total devotion. "Uh, _right_ -" She cleared her throat and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, "I need to examine you both and get you cleaned up. I'll start with Keeley, so Cameron, if you wouldn't mind-"

The male remained still, eyes narrowed with hints of uncertain malice, "Can't we have a different doctor?"

"No," Authority stamped her tone coolly and she approached the bed, lifting her stethoscope from around her shoulders, "You'll have to make do with me I'm afraid." A light smile danced upon her lips, hoping to lighten the tense mood.

"It's fine, Cam." Keeley forced a weak smile, retracting her hand away and noticing his reluctance to leave, "He can stay, I don't mind."

"Very well." Bernie nodded, "I'm just going to listen to your chest." She waited for permission before loosening the hospital gown for access. It was a perfect - necessary - excuse so she could study the bruising from the seatbelt, hoping to find the real driver.

"Oh, uh," The army medic's orbs amplified, her latest discovery catching her off-guard as the thin material slipped from Keeley's stomach and revealed a gentle swell of her stomach, "you're pregnant, I didn't realise. Sorry." Her mere murmur of an apology followed after her eyes had lingered too long on the bump and she resumed her initial examinations.

"Your chest sounds clear." Bernie stated matter-of-factly and gestured that she had finished so Keeley could pull the gown back up, "I just need to take a blood test, then I'll get someone to do a routine ultrasounds just to check everything's okay with the baby. You haven't felt any cramping or anything unusual have you? And a nurse will come and clean up that cut to your forehead too."

With precision and a delicate touch, the blonde inserted the needle into the girl's arm and extracted a sample tube of blood before making her excuses to leave. "Come on, Cam. Back to your bed. I'll be with you in a moment."

Bernie sent the blood off to the hospital laboratory before pulling the curtain around Cameron's bay, perching on the foot of his bed. They remained in silence momentarily, neither quite sure what to say.

"So...you and Keeley. Is the baby yours?" She hadn't intended to sound so candid and curt, nor the disappointment that laced her words dully.

"Mum!" Cameron scowled angrily, laughing bitterly as he shook his head and rolled his eyes, "Here we go! Why can't you just be happy for us! Just because you've screwed up your own life."

"Well I know that she's forty and married with kids so I have to wonder!" The older woman retorted, raking a hand through her hair with a sigh. She quickly apologised and regained her equilibrium, subconsciously folding her arms across her chest.

He scoffed bluntly, "That is _so_ rich coming from you! We love each other, and yes. The baby is mine. Keeley says it is and I believe her."

Head dipped marginally, Bernie evaded direct eye contact as she snapped on some sterile gloves and dipped some cotton wool into a saline solution, "Convenient. What does your father have to say about all this?"

Cameron slyly elected to deflect the question, concealing a wince as the saline contacted with a cut on his cheek. "You can hardly talk, you're infatuation with another women is the exact reason you and Dad are getting a divorce."

"Our relationship was over a long time ago." It was a fragile whisper. Dismissive. Being in love with Alex had taught her that she never really had properly loved Marcus; love felt like an exhilaration of something entirely different with the army anaesthetist.

Bernie raised her gaze shortly, snorting humourlessly, "You haven't told him because you know he wouldn't approve any more than I do." When he guiltily looked away, she knew very well her assumption was correct.

His glare was ominous and frosty and he obligingly removed his shirt upon request, his mother deciding to change the subject. "I just need to check your chest given the nature of your sister's injuries." A brief explanation as she listened for noises through her stethoscope. And she was suddenly knowledgable to exactly who was the driver of the car, her stomach twisting into tight knots.

"Is Charlotte okay?"

"Stable." Bernie stated bluntly, "We had to operate. Your chest is clear." She suspended her trusty stethoscope back around her neck, delicately mulling over how to approach her next enquiries, "Cam, who was driving?"

His reply came confidently, "Charlotte."

A small nod as she sat back on the edge of the bed, extending an arm to rest her hand on top of her son's, "Are you sure? I heard the car veered. And your sister's results for alcohol and drugs came back clear."

"Positive." There was huge emphasis on the single word, "Veering is just a technical word for sliding. It's torrential rain out there. She just lost control. It was a complete accident."

His ability to look her dead in the eye and lie so blatantly just tangled Bernie's stomach muscles further. "Okay. Don't get smart with me." She gave a satisfied nod and curled her lips into a tiny positive curve. "I um, I just need to take a blood test now." Turning, she prepared the needle, arm strap and pressurised tube.

"Why?" Cameron's body clammed up defensively, face paling just a petite factor that the army medic could only just notice under detail scrutiny.

Bernie sighed with pursed lips, twisting back to face her son and apply the band only to be pushed away in refusal. "The police found drugs in the car, and a colleague and myself have reason to believe that Charlotte was not behind the wheel. Blood tests of everyone in the vehicle had been requested, to eliminate who was sober and name who is intoxicated."

"Charlotte was driving." He raised his voice aiming to reinforce his point, "And I was at a party mother."

Forehead creasing, she wriggled her eyebrow, "I know you were at a party. You're over age to drink so I can't stop you. And if you're sober to illegal substances then you'll have no problem with me taking a blood sample."

Again, the male snatched away his arm forcefully, "I don't want a blood test."

Bernie narrowed her deep orbs and blew out a breath. She feared the worse, his demeanour speaking very clearly where his words failed. "Cameron, did you take drugs at that party?" Firm and sincere.

"No." His conceit-ness and inability to remain still were not convincing however.

"I'll ask you again, in your own language." Major Wolfe had surfaced, attitude hardening with a thick bark, "Were you off your face?!"

"Do I look off my face?!"

"Well, I don't know." The pressure was steadily increasing, "It sure wouldn't be the first time. Turn out your pockets." She loathed that she couldn't trust her son, hating that her responsibility as a respected doctor had to over power her role as a mother wanting to protect her offspring.

Cameron rolled his eyes with obvious disinterest, "Broken record, Mum. That was years ago."

"One last time, have you consumed drugs? Or in the possession of any controlled substances?" The blonde's manner was harsh and sincere, posture deadly serious with an icy glower.

Waving his hand dismissively, he simply laughed - adding to the fury of his mother. "This is ridiculous."

Sucking in a breath, Bernie fleetingly shut her eyes before snatching the contents from the pocket of his jeans; a lighter, paper, filters and a clear bag containing a crushed powder. "You are high aren't you?" It was a curt statement, not a question. Rhetorical.

She growled in disbelief, shaking her head with despair as she rubbed her forehead. A subtle ache was beginning to thrive in the back of her head; her despise for domestic problems was multiplying by the second. A reminder of why the army was so much more appealing than civilian life.

"Oh, Cameron." Bernie sighed exhaustedly and flopped down onto the plastic chair at her son's bedside.

"You were young once, just chill out. It isn't a big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal!" An exasperated exclamation, "Yes, I was young once. But I was never this irresponsible." Taking control of your own actions was a lesson she had learnt early in life; it had provided her with priceless wisdom.

Sitting up, he turned to face his mother. "You can't tell the police. I'll get kicked out of med school. I'll loose everything." For the first time that day, she perceived opaque fear flash through his dark eyes, plead trembling his words.

Her features were strained with the stress, imploring for a rational indication of how they were going to solve the current situation. "What do you expect me to do? I have to provide a blood test."

"Take blood from yourself." Cameron spoke slowly, almost reassuringly. "Your results will come back clean. They can't charge if they have no concrete proof."

Bernie's lips parted in renounce, not entirely swayed she had heard correctly. "Cameron, this is ludicrous-"

"You'll do this for me, mum. You'll do this if you want me to ever talk to you again. Unless you want to ruin my life." Guilt tripping. He was very good at a persuading solicit, fully knowing that the army medic had difficulties with what was right in matrimonial and family circumstances. Blackmail was a dark art.

"Fine, but you better start talking. The truth. Because I know for a fact that Charlotte was not driving that car when it crashed. Medical science tells me that, and I've got a pretty good idea who was. No more lies."

"What about your lies, though? Your deceit and Alex."

"Cameron-" Her tone was edged with a cutting warning. She wanted her own queries answer, not to be fired with diverting questions about her own mistakes.


	18. Chapter 18

_Scars - Part 18_

The tourniquet clamped around her upper arm. And with skilful precision, Bernie inserted the sterile needle into her vein with a prickly tap and watched the attached syringe fill with her own thick crimson blood. She sighed deeply, eyes fluttering shut as she tipped her head back against the swivel chair.

"There you are!" Serena exclaimed as she entered their shared office, "I've been looking for you." Her chatter continued idly until she finally focused on her colleague, eyes widening with a mixture of horror and concern, "Bernie, what ever are you doing?!"

She cursed loudly with gritted teeth. In her haste, the needle had been ripped from her arm carelessly. "It's not what it looks like." Applying pressure with cotton wool to the tiny sight of incision, the army medic twisted her head, burdened with a mortified sensation she desperately tried to veil.

"What _does_ it look like?" Perplexed, yet equally curious, Serena padded across to the desk and grasped the discarded tube, peering at the scrawl across the label. Dark chocolate eyes amplified again with a devastated revulsion; pure shock. "Why have you just filled a blood test for Cameron Dunn, with your own blood!"

"In fact, do I even _want_ to know-" The brunette's veins were saturated with disappointment, rile lacing her rant.

"Serena, I _can_ explain." Bernie sucked in a steady breath, forlornly looking up at her fellow consultant.

"Really?!" A blunt scoff, spotting the small sealed bag of powder also abandoned on the wood, "Is that drugs as well?! I'm not sure you can redeem yourself from this one, Ms Wolfe." She pointedly folded her arms across her chest, fumed with assertion.

Her first confession was blurted out, "Cameron was driving! He told me. He told me _everything_ , in fact." Eyebrows arching slightly, her pitch lowered to a meek murmur, "He's as high as a bloody kite, though. And in possession of controlled substances." She gestured towards the drugs she had confiscated in the heat of the moment, initially intending to secretly dispose of them.

"Have you told the police?"

"No, not yet. I mean, we will...wait!" The stress creased her features, internal thoughts conflicting brutally and she hurled her head into her hands, digging her fingernails into her fringe. She couldn't think straight let alone compose words to make sense.

Serena perched on the edge of her own desk, shaking her head in despair as she pieced together the unsaid, "I'm not stupid, Bernie. I can clearly see what you are trying to do. I can't believe I'm even having this conversation with you-" she puffed out a sigh, "My only question is why? Why are you trying to cover for him? Protect his stupidity!"

"I have to tread carefully." Her voice wavered weakly, swallowing thickly as she blinked away the droplets that threatened to pool in her glossy eyes, "He'll loose everything if the police find out he was driving intoxicated. He's with Keeley, who's carrying his child. I...I miss my kids, I don't want to loose them for good."

"And by lying you risk loosing everything yourself? Everything you've worked for. You can face a jail sentence for preventing the courts of justice! What about this trauma unit we have put so much effort in. The help I've provided in all this. Do you really think so little of me?! This is ludicrous!"

The faltering fear burned opaquely in her eyes, her frown wistful as she retorted. Vulnerability and apprehension squeaked her manner into an uncharacteristic high pitch. "He said that if I don't do this he'll never talk to me again!"

Serena sighed sadly and shifted next to Bernie, subconsciously dropping a hand onto the distressed woman's shoulder. It was the first time she had witnessed the usually tough army medic's defensive barriers crumble; exposing her tenderness and weakness.

"Oh, Bernie. He's manipulating you." This time her attitude had softened; more mellow and compassionate. "Do you really want that on your conscience? The deceit. Knowing you've lied - and quite frankly hurt - me again?"

Bernie curled her hands into fists, slouching in the chair and pursed her lips, "Or I have to deal with my son hating me, that I've thrown away his life and that baby will have a convicted father with a criminal record." She winced. Saying it aloud multiplied the austere and grim reality.

"You haven't thrown away his life. He's done that himself with his reckless behaviour." It was a harsh authenticity, but one Serena felt the blonde needed to hear. "You'll find it easier to live with the truth; knowing you've been honest, trust me."

"You're wisdom is invaluable." Hearing it all had whirled everything into perspective "You're right, this is ridiculous. I can't do this, not even for him." Her resilient armour was starting to reshape, and she confidently regained her posture and marched towards the yellow waste disposal bin and chucked the forged blood samples away.

The primary hurdle, and potentially hardest step was completed. Serena stiffened slightly and swallowed knowing the legal side of things now followed. "And the police?"

"Need to be told." Bernie nodded briskly, "I'll tell them...soon." An additional elaboration followed when she perceived the brunette raise her eyebrows, prepared to object, "I want to talk to Cameron again first, try and convince him to come clean and confess himself. It'd probably help him in the long run."

"Very well." She acknowledged with a bow of her head, "I'm giving you one hour, Bernie. Otherwise I will confide with the police myself. We've put ourselves on the line enough for one day."

 _~\~\~_

Serena quietly approached the blonde who stood morosely, her figure hunched up as she gazed blankly out the window. Dusk was starting to invade, street lights flickering as the geared up and the last traces of natural light were chased away by the dense nightfall.

Following her fixed stare, she watched two police officers march Cameron towards a marked car, the young male restricted with handcuffs. The scene beneath them confirmed her impending query.

"You've done the right thing, Bernie." Silky and muted; hushed with comfort. "Can I offer you tea?" Serena signalled to the disposable cup she had arrived equipped with, fresh and steaming.

"I hope so." Bernie pushed her tense fingers through her fluffy locks, knotted from the repeated action throughout the day. A single teardrop rolled down her cheek and she fiercely swiped it away and looked down at the tea, "I'd prefer a whiskey, if I'm honest."

She watched a tiny wry curve twitch her lips and smiled sadly, "And if I had some to offer then I'd give you a double."

Bernie stifled a hoarse chuckle, "I guess I'll take the tea then, thanks." Hot liquid trickled down her dry throat, leaving a warming trail into the depths of her belly. "I'd better go speak to Keeley."

"Keeley is resting. Absolutely fine, although traces of drugs have been identified in her system so the police will probably be talking to her again..."

"But she's pregnant!" The army medic exclaimed and shook her head in exasperation. Her features scrunched slightly as a sudden realisation rippled through her body. "I'm going to be a grandmother. That's _my_ grandchild." She groaned inwardly. That was a perspective she had been intending to avoid for another few years yet.

"I performed the ultrasound myself - the baby is fine and unharmed. I'd says she's about twenty-one weeks, and it's a little boy, for the record." Serena reassured, "Now I think Charlotte requires some attention on the other hand; you requested a meds review four to six hours post surgery. She is breathing unaided and her current signs show a promising recovery."

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Bernie smiled slightly. The surgery had been a success. "At least something has gone right today. Cameron and Keeley thought by blaming Charlie, who is entirely sober, they could get away with it!"

"And I thought siblings were supposed to look out for each other."

She grunted, "It would have been enough of a label to kick her out of med school. Keeley was an old registrar of mine back in the day. I never anticipated her ending up sleeping with my son."

Serena cringed, "I can see why it was a bit of a shock." They walked together, navigating their way to the secluded room where Charlotte had been transferred after recovery.

Tentatively, they entered the room intending to maintain that tranquil atmosphere they had infiltrated. Bernie paused, observing the young girl who dozed in a peaceful slumber, messy blonde hair splayed across. The steady rise and fall of her chest greatly consoling.

Extracting the file from the foot of the bed, the trauma surgeon familiarised herself with the updates of her daughter's notes, studying for anything new or alarming. "All looks good," she murmured, dropping the folder back into the holder subsequently to a swift check of the monitors. Calm, steady hums and beeps.

With cautious steps, she lethargically settled on the chair at the bedside, and extended her arm to delicately hold Charlotte's hand, rubbing the pad of her thumb in small circular motions. She recalled that subtle movement had pacified the girl during her earlier years.

"Charlie?" It was a fragile whisper. Her eyes darted upwards at the sensation of her daughter's beginning to stir. Instinctively, she stroked the girl's abundance of hair, brushing it away from her face.

Charlotte coughed, groaning as the motion jerked her tender ribs. Her throat was parched, voice croaky and grating, "Mu-um?" She blinked, trying to focus her vision as her eyes adjusted to the sensitive light change and fight away the blur of sleep.

Without request, Serena dimmed the lights and remained by the door wishing not to invade.

"Shhh," Dutifully, Bernie rose to her feet and poured a glass of chilled water. With a straw inserted, she helped her daughter ingested some of the refreshing liquid, informing her to only take small frequent sips.

"Thanks." She croaked.

The army medic smiled gently, glancing towards her friend, "Serena, could you give her some more morphine please? She hasn't had any in a while." Her attention diverted back to her daughter, "Try to stay still, you had a crush injury from the crash and rather invasive surgery. Hence why it's sore when you coughed; and it'll hurt just as much if you laugh, for a while."

Charlotte's lips twisted into a sleepy smile, eyes fluttering open and closed as she drifted, "I...didn't expect to see...you here-"

"It came as a surprise to me too." She admitted cordially, the tame genuine smile enhancing her features. Serena couldn't help but smile at the gracious moment.

"I've missed you." Whispering, Charlie nestled back into the pillows with the threat of sleep lingering thickly but she mustered the strength to gaze up at her mother. With the divorce, Bernie had been absent in their lives, especially since the bitter statements. Although the woman had put herself through the punishment of rereading them, scrutinising every word, she still thought her daughter's felt forced with an unusual choice of vocabulary.

"I missed you too." Bernie confessed, "Uhm..is there anyone you'd like me to call or anything you need?" Domestic small talk was something she struggled with, and she was already exhausted from her emotional turmoil with Cameron.

"Is...is dad here?"

"No. Nowhere in sight."

Charlotte gave a petite nod of acknowledgment before asking, "Can.." She paused hesitantly, "can you call Evelyn, please." It was a somnolent murmur, eyes falling shut purposely. Bernie had to listen very closely to catch the barely audible following line, "my partner."

Glancing up at Serena, the blonde perceived the general surgeon wriggle her eyebrows and smiled coyly as she administered the additional pain relief. And suddenly her suspicions were all starting to make sense. "Of course I can, Charlie.


	19. Chapter 19

_Scars - Part 19_

"How'd it go?"

Serena tilted her eyes upwards, refocusing her attention to the blonde as she released a patient file from her grasp, the folder delicately sliding from her fingertips back on to the surface of the nurse's station. Anticipation chilled her tone, nerves edging her words.

Today was a big day for Berenice Wolfe.

Dressed in attire appropriate for a court trial, Bernie exhibited no clues of which way the case had gone. A black formal skirt, perfectly pressed, fell just above her knee, the beautiful toned lines of her long, slender legs on proud display. The neat silk cascading elegantly over her frame, enhancing the arcs and curves of her silhouette in an alluring powder blue. A matching taylored jacket and a pair of heels completed the outfit; the brunette was certain she saw a slight wobble as Bernie's aching feet protested at the unpractical shoes.

"My liberty has finally been resumed. No more loose ends." Bernie's relieved smile swirled her lips, cocoa irises dancing with a liberated delight.

It had been an emotionally raw and painful experience, grinding with bitter grimness for much longer than necessary. But it was over. Silver anniversary mark passed, they were divorced. She was free from the ties of marriage; welcome to start the new chapter of her life.

Serena blew out a breath she hadn't even realised had caught in the back of her throat, the news she had been impatiently awaiting finally delivered. "That _is_ excellent news, and I'm sure a great weight has been lifted from your shoulders."

She nodded, following her friend towards their office, "Obviously, we have to wait a year for the degree absolute - although I'm sure it's very safe to say that neither parties are going to go back on what's happened."

"Of course. Dare I ask if you were able to salvage anything that was rightly yours?"

Marcus had gone for everything regardless of whether it was his to have. Perhaps he considered it as revenge; sullen payback in its sweetest form of hatred.

"All I wanted was my freedom, and my half of the savings that I contributed." Kicking off her heels, she massaged her sore and nagging feet as she flopped into her chair with a satisfied groan, "The jury granted me both."

Nodding, Serena's wry smirk adopted her features subtly, her voice light and smooth with her rich husk, "I told you it _was_ worth fighting for. And I think that is the first time I've seen Ms Wolfe in heels; in fact, I'm positive. Probably aided your case too; adds to your authority, much like leopard print.."

"And believe me, it'll probably be the last." The blonde grunted, "They are absolute torture, and reserved for absolutely limited occasions." Her life had been spent sporting sturdy military issue boots or flats of some description, never fancy and dainty heeled footwear.

"Well, I think they rather suit you actually."

Bernie scoffed with a laugh, saturated with a blunt demeanour, "Compliments will not make me change my mind on that one." It was confirmed with a confident shake of her head, the stray curls at the top of the clip bouncing with the motion, "After all that talk, turns out Marcus couldn't actually walk the walk. He didn't have a leg to stand on really."

"There was no one left to vouch for his accusations. I never denied my infidelity, but all the other bullshit he spouted couldn't be accounted for. There is no evidence but I highly doubt he remained faithful during my absence; good on him if I was stronger than I, though. Cameron was no longer deemed a suitable testifier following his own reverts of justice, and Charlotte - whom I believe was having second thoughts anyway - wasn't well enough to attend the trial. I think we were the only ones in denial that our marriage wasn't over years ago until recently."

A posture that came naturally without thought had espoused Serena's frame; arms crossed absentmindedly as she perched at the edge of the desk. "How are things with Charlotte?"

"Recovering well," Bernie nodded and swallowed thickly. Knowing that wasn't where the question was directed, she caressed at the back of her neck, "She's staying with Evelyn, moved out of the family home. Entirely her decision. Turns out Marcus wasn't exactly complimentary regarding my relationship with Alex. We're talking, and I think we might be getting their slowly."

"I'm _very_ happy to hear that."

She had helplessly watched the stoic layers of this strong woman crumble. Dissolve and shatter. Her armour and defensive personal walls had disintegrated into unsalvageable dust. Exposing her vulnerabilities and confidential weaknesses. But she had witnessed the female start to rebuild her life, tackle and take down her haunting demons. Embracing the steps of the rocky path of fixture. Meriting her freedom. And now the light was finally visible at the end of the pitch black tunnel of endless misery; it was a pleasure.

"Now, I was expecting to see you in official uniform. I for one certainly wouldn't argue with someone who was suited and booted."

"No." Sadly, the army medic shook her head, "Um, as I expected, my infidelity did come up for discussion. Alex and I, it was strictly forbidden out there. I wouldn't put those sins on the highly respected military by wearing my uniform, or my unfaithfulness."

"Sins hmm? I didn't have you down as the religious type." Serena observed with a teasing waggle of her eyebrows.

"Oh, I'm not!" Chuckled Bernie dryly, "And certainly not when I am going to treat you to unlimited glasses of your favourite shiraz tonight, as a thank you."

The brunette opposed flippantly, "You don't need to thank me for anything. In fact, I think drinks should be on me tonight; celebrations on your part, and a toast for the next chapter of your life."

"No, really. I insist." Bernie fixed her eyes on Serena, honesty drizzling her grateful words, "You have been my rock through all of this, I owe you Serena. Let me at least start to thank you."

"Nonsense-"

Serena was briskly interrupted as Fletch tapped on their office door. Poking his head round the frame, the head nurse apologetically cut in to inform the two leading surgeons that someone required an urgent laparoscopy after free fluid had shown on an ultrasound of the abdomen.

"You wanna take this one, Bern?"

"I've never been more ready for anything in my life." Bernie's infectious grin was lopsided as she jumped to her feet.

 ** _A/N:_ just wanted to say thanks to anybody who has read. Initially, there were going to be 2 epilogues to follow but I've decided not to as I've had so much negativity on this - people have shredded my punctuation, grammar and choice of words. I'm all for constructive critism, but there is a polite way to put it.**


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